


Serendipity and the Things Between

by orsaverba



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Body Horror, Explicit Sexual Content, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Magical Realism, Mortal Realm, Sidhe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 139,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8435464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsaverba/pseuds/orsaverba
Summary: Fae dislike nothing more than debt, especially debt to mortals. When Hakuryuu, an UnSeelie prince, awakens maimed and weakened after fleeing Sidhe, he finds himself in the care of the mortal Judal. Touched by the blind act of kindness, he feels honor bound to repay his life-debt. This chance meeting draws Judal into Hakuryuu's world of magic and treachery; more wondrous and dangerous than he could have foreseen.[ Updates every other week. ]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I will be adding tags in the future as they begin to apply to the fic. This will include ships, characters, and general warnings for the story as a whole. The rating will also be subject to change once content develops to a point that it will be necessary. 
> 
> New tags and warnings will be posted at the beginning of each chapter as they are added. If a chapter requires a warning that is not applicable to the fic as a whole, that will also be listed in the beginning notes. If at any point I miss a tag or warning, please let me know so I can add it!
> 
> That being said, thank you for reading, and enjoy!

The brittle earth was coated with a fine layer of powdered snow and beneath it a layer of ice just thick enough that his weight couldn’t crack it. It should have been near impossible to move without slipping, yet Hakuryuu darted along the icy ground with the speed and agility of a wild deer. He vaulted small boulders and turned sharp corners along the labyrinthine mountain paths, no destination in mind besides _forward_.

 

His pursuers were smart enough to have run him towards the craggy edges of the mountain pass rather than deeper into the swamps. Here, little grew and his magic threaded feebly deep in the earth, where in the swamp it surged at the surface. Could he still wreak havoc here? Of course, but with far more effort and will than it would have taken elsewhere.

 

He had lost his companions in the flurry to escape the attack on their hideaway and his pursuers knew it as well as he did. The further they drove him into the mountains, the less power he had to draw on and the more advantage they gained.

 

By the same token, if he stopped, he would have to confront them face to face with what he had at his disposal.

 

“ _Sun and stars—_ “ he swore to no one in particular, planting his foot firmly and pivoting himself in place, sending a spray of snow into the air.

 

Without his polearm, Hakuryuu felt incredibly barren. The weapon was probably nothing more than a few pieces of burnt wood now, and he spared a half second to mourn its loss. Another could be made, certainly, but he had a fondness for that one. He’d grown up using it.

 

Still, now was no time for sentimentality. He fell into his favored stance, ready to spring to action at the first sign of a fight, and unsheathed the sword at his hip. The crystalline blade glowed in the sparse moonlight, casting his pale features into ethereal relief.

 

Hakuryuu had but two heartbeats to formulate any kind of plan in his mind. There was a path behind him and another to his right, both viable options to escape through if he had to, and there was enough magic still in the soil to provide him some options. He breathed in and began drawing the power to him, from the soles of his feet up through his body, trying to collect enough to be of any value.

 

The magic was sluggish to respond; it disliked the cold, dead earth, and it shuddered and shivered as it crawled from the warm depths up towards him. By the second heartbeat it had only just started to amass within him, and his pursuers had arrived.

 

There were three of them. Hakuryuu grit his teeth and fought back a victorious sneer when he noted that two of the more dangerous fae from the attack had followed him. Good. More chance for his comrades to make their own escapes.

 

To his left was a goblin, its wiry arms hefting twin axes bigger than its own body. In front of him, two armored fae, one with a bow drawn with two arrows pointed in his direction and another with a spear. A sword would be a poor match against any of them even at the best of times, any trained soldier knew that. But Hakuryuu was more than a common soldier and his training had readied him for situations set at odds just as imbalanced as this.

 

Which was probably why the enemy never gave him a chance to attack. Something came flying at him from his left, his sensitive ears catching the whizz of motion in the air too late to properly dodge. He jerked aside belatedly but the projectile reached him first, burying itself in his side between the slit of his armor with pinpoint accuracy.

 

Hakuryuu howled as pain seized along his side, almost reminiscent of the fire that had left him scarred, crippling him before he could even react. His vision blurred like he had been shaken rapidly, head suddenly pounding, and he just barely managed to keep on his feet.

 

Before his hand could go to his side his instincts screamed for him to move again. He jerked his sword arm up, just barely parrying a strike that came for his head. A mirthful chortle filled the air.

 

Hakuryuu stumbled before getting his feet under himself again, forcing up mental walls to hold the pain at bay. His vision cleared, if only slightly, and he was aware of the new figure in front of him. The moment he recognized the outline of his mother’s knight, he snarled with rage.

 

“Ithnan—!“ he hissed between his teeth. His hand felt along his side, trying to find the entry point of whatever he had been shot with. The wound pulsed with hot flashes of agony, each heartbeat making the feeling grow.

 

Ithnan dipped into a mocking bow that did nothing but make the prince’s lip curl higher over his teeth.

 

“You’ve been terribly ill-behaved, my prince.” he said, his tone filled with the same kind of gentle scornfulness you might use on a child. “Your mother is most concerned.”

 

Hakuryuu ignored the taunt, reaching his senses out to try and ascertain just how many fae were involved in this second ambush. His stomach sank towards his knees when his senses informed him _too many_. The two pathways he’d thought to be his escape were both blocked by encroaching groups of four or more, many of them brimming with magic fueled by the cold.

 

His best option would be to fight his way forward and flee back towards the swamp, but to do so would mean passing the goblin, the two armored knights, and now Ithnan. The malicious fae never gave him the chance.

 

He leapt at Hakuryuu, his thin blade drawn and aimed straight at the prince’s belly. Hakuryuu parried, jumping aside, but while his movements usually held the grace of a dancer he could now barely keep himself upright. With both hands on the hilt of his sword there was little he could do about the pain of his left side, now beginning to spread through his body one agonizing inch at a time.

 

His vision flickered in and out, tinged white at the edges. Even half blind he kept dodging and blocking the icicle-like blade coming at him, but either Ithnan was moving faster, or he was beginning to slow down. The remaining two thirds of the ambush drew in closer and Hakuryuu felt himself running rapidly out of options.

 

The blade glinted in the half-light, flickering towards his exposed neck and the prince moved without thinking, his subconscious already aware of the cost of the action.

 

Faerie metal met skin and a scream of animal pain rent the air. The prince fell to one knee, his vision black and spotted with sharp sparks of white. He couldn’t see the injury, but he could feel the pain in his side spreading to engulf the remaining portion of his left arm. It grew so bad the agony was almost numbing.

 

Sparks of magic coursed through his body, hurtling towards the worst of his injuries. A faint instinct told him that the magic was doing its best to seal off all his bleeding, but whatever was embedded in his side seemed to be halting it in its tracks. Feeble sparks danced out along the blood flowing from his missing limb, trying to find the lost appendage and reattach it.

 

The battle was over before it had even begun. Magic and blood alike flowed from the prince in streams, weakening further and further as the seconds went by. He could hardly keep his eyes open, let alone rise from where he had fallen.

 

Hakuryuu was faintly aware of the crunch of snow. His vision was lost to him, the pain overloading him the way it had when he was a child, but the blindness was familiar. His body reacted to it, heightening his other senses to compensate faster than it should have been able.

 

Footsteps approached him with mocking leisure. He didn’t have much time.

 

Hakuryuu reached into the earth, gripping the hilt of his sword until his knuckles were white and using it as a conduit to draw in the magic beneath him. He had no time to coax the flow of magic to him as he usually would. He ripped the threads of power from the earth as rapidly as he could, pulling vein after vein to himself until he could feel the pulse of it in his fingertips.

 

The footsteps stopped and he was faintly aware of a shadow looming over him. There was no more time, and no more magic in the frozen earth. He’d run out of options.

 

With desperation, he envisioned the spell he wanted in his mind. He forced all of his will, all of his pain and the flickers of fear he wouldn’t admit to into it, filling the spell with every last bit of power he could find inside himself. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he released the spell outwards.

 

All at once the earth opened beneath him, a fissure carving itself through not the earth, but the very fabric of reality. Hakuryuu didn’t have time to wonder if the spell had worked as he had intended it to, the expulsion of magic tearing the last of his consciousness from him.

 

The prince plummeted through the gaping crevice, and knew no more.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has come so late in the day, everyone! I had errands to run that kept me out longer than expected. Nonetheless, here is the first chapter of Serendipity, I hope you all enjoy!

The first thought to cross Judal’s mind was; _why does this shit always happen in the rain_? He thought it was a very valid question to be asking. It seemed like any time anything dramatic was happening in movies, books, hell even songs; it was always in the damn rain. As far as he was concerned it seemed terribly impractical. It was a little difficult to grasp the drama when you could hardly see through the downpour around you, and that was if you had an umbrella. What if you were walking into a final confrontation and you tripped in a deep puddle? Or a roll of thunder made it so you totally couldn’t hear your dream guy’s confession?

 

Or what if you were standing there with two armfuls of groceries and you just saw a guy fall out of the sky into a planter while simultaneously being soaked to the bone because you had no hand to carry your umbrella?

 

Judal looked between the heavy bags in either hand and the iron gateway in front of him, the open path between himself and the planter screaming “bad decision” at the top of its lungs. A familiar flicker of annoyance passed through him. He had a strain of bad luck that always seemed to find him in the wrong place at the wrong time. No matter how many precautions he took, odd and unlikely circumstances just followed him like a plague.

 

On the one hand, he was tempted to just keep walking to the front of his building, ignoring the odd apparition entirely, and go back up to his apartment with his groceries. He could put the falling figure off as a trick of the light and just go upstairs like it never happened. Or, he could do the incredibly unwise thing and get involved in whatever madness he’d just witnessed, thereby welcoming whatever trouble may follow.

 

He deliberated for a moment, then groaned and swerved towards the gateway into the courtyard behind his apartment building.

 

The light from the streetlamps grew dim the deeper into the courtyard he trekked and a shiver passed down his spine as the shadows began to lengthen. He’d never liked the courtyard much, though he’d convinced himself it was kind of charming when he first moved in. The truth was that even in the daylight, it was creepy.

 

It was long and narrow, constructed out of the alleyway between two buildings, surrounded by a wrought iron fence that had long since lost whatever color it was painted and adopted an off shade of _gloom_. To the left the concrete opened into a row of open dirt that housed the dried up carcasses of long dead trees, their gnarled branches tangled into the fence and bowing out over the rest of the courtyard.

 

In the center, there were three long planters spaced out evenly, probably once meant to be full of flowerbeds but now boasting nothing more than dirt. Against the back wall there was a bench of the same iron as the gate, and a second one was settled back against the wall of the apartment building, beside the door. When it was first planted, it had probably been a quaint little escape for the building’s residence, but it had long ago fallen into disuse.

 

The second planter was half full, like the rest, but the remainder of the space was taken up by the body of what appeared to be a young man dressed like the stunt double from a movie set somewhere between medieval times and imperial China.

 

Judal looked up, squinting through the rain, trying to see if there was anything hanging overhead that miscellaneous men could come falling from. The roof of his building was off limits so it couldn’t be there, and there was no way he could have landed flat on his back in the planter from the roof on the other side. Straight above, there was open sky.

 

 _A helicopter maybe?_ he wondered, but that seemed relatively melodramatic. And besides that, it would have to be incredibly low flying for him to not be splattered all over the concrete.

 

Wherever he had come from, he was clearly injured and lying in a mound of dirt was probably not doing him any favors. Judal moved forward, then remembered his groceries.

 

He looked down at the bags.

 

Well, he clearly couldn’t carry them _and_ the man at the same time, for starters. If he took them upstairs he’d only be a few minutes, but depending on how badly hurt the man was that could be the difference between life and death. If he left them here though, they were going to get waterlogged.

 

The man in the planter let out a wheezing cough that rattled his chest, his whole body shuddering violently before going absolutely still.

 

Judal dropped his grocery bags.

 

Leaning over, he hooked his arms under the man’s body and heaved him up. He didn’t look like he was supposed to be particularly heavy, but unconscious he was nothing but dead weight. Judal struggled, but got one arm under his torso and the other under his legs. He lifted, and immediately strained his back. Right, you’re supposed to lift with your knees—Well that applied to boxes, not armor wearing men, right? Sure.

 

Judal shambled his way towards the back door into the building, mounting the two small stairs and realizing belatedly that he should have opened the door first. Groaning aloud over a peal of thunder, he eased the man down, meaning to sling his arm over his shoulder and swearing profusely when he realized _he didn’t fucking have one_.

 

Suddenly very glad for the darkness, Judal stood there a minute with the unconscious man held a fraction too tightly against his front, heart racing. He had almost lost his grip on him, hence the panic, but more importantly the guy seemed to be sans an arm. What kind of soldier only had _one_ arm?

 

Remembering this was not the biggest issue at hand, Judal kept one arm around the man’s waist, back to the door, and fumbled his keys from his pocket and into the lock.

 

“Fuck yeah.” he muttered to himself when the door eased inwards behind him, pushing with his back and pulling the man in after him.

 

In theory, the trip up four flights of stairs while carrying an unconscious person was going to be about as difficult as carrying his groceries. In theory, Judal was also better at weight lifting and cardio than in reality. Theoretical Judal could run up and down four flights of stairs and still be able to run around the block without getting winded. This was why theoretical Judal was theoretical. Actual Judal almost dropped the man twice.

 

By the time he got to his apartment door, Judal was wheezing and his muscles were complaining loudly that the groceries were trial enough and this was just plain old torture. He grit his teeth through it though, going through the same process of getting the door open as before and hauling the stranger inside.

 

There was an instantaneous feeling of comfort to being in his minute apartment. The front door opened inwards and Judal crossed the threshold into the familiar smell of citrus and ink that seemed to permanently stain his living space.

 

From the front door one entered directly into the living room, a large square that had been crammed full of a couch, coffee table, TV set and assorted bookshelves of disorganized shapes and sizes. The bottom right corner of the room had been cut off by a wall to house the kitchen, a large portion of the wall missing so one could see directly into the kitchen from the living room.

 

To the right of the living room were two open doors, one leading to the cramped bathroom and the other to the equally boxy single bedroom. It wasn’t fancy, decorated in second hand furniture and rugs and sporting only two windows on the far wall, but it was home.

 

Judal deposited his impromptu guest on the couch as gently as he could, sparing a moment to groan and stretch his back. He ambled back to the door, shutting and locking it while toeing off his shoes before turning on the main light.

 

“…Ugh.” he grimaced at the sight of rainwater staining into his favorite rug. It was red shag and the largest rug he owned, set in front of the couch under the coffee table.

 

He was even wetter than he’d thought he noted as he went around to the two standing lamps and turned them on, looking down at himself with a scowl. He stopped, the light in front of him flickering on, illuminating the odd stain on his shirt he’d been staring at.

 

It was too dark to be water, in fact it looked more like spilled ink. Judal pressed his fingers to it and pulled them back, looking at his fingertips and finding them stained with something warm and _purple_.

 

For a moment, it didn’t register, then he whirled around and darted to the couch, leaning over the back to look down at the man he’d left there. Sure enough, there were stains forming on his couch cushions, too dark to be from water, even if rain water were purple, which it wasn’t.

 

Then again, neither was blood, usually, but what else could it be?

 

 _Come on Judal, like you’re one to fucking judge some guy’s weird-ass blood condition._ he berated himself with a frown. It’s not like _he_ was the prime example of your average human being.

 

The point was that this guy was bleeding all over his furniture but, more importantly, _bleeding_. He was hurt, and pretty badly at that.

 

Judal wasn’t terribly accident prone, but after a long line of _wrong place wrong time_ incidents, he’d learned to be prepared. His first aid kit was massive and had hardly been touched since he’d dropped almost sixty dollars on it, but it seemed the investment he’d been griping over was about to pay off. He got it settled open on the coffee table and then turned back to the man.

 

“Okay, so,” he muttered to himself. “How the fuck do you remove armor exactly?”

 

It wasn’t like they taught this kind of shit in school. Judal stared at the young man’s ensemble, aware that every second he spent looking was a second more he was bleeding out. Finally, he decided to just go for the obvious seams and see what happened.

 

What happened was a lot of fumbling and swearing later, he found the first clasp. After that figuring out where the specific straps and buckles were was easy and he managed with only mild consternation. It took a while, but he got the chest piece off the man and set aside. The shoulder braces were much easier to get off, by some miracle, as were the arm guards.

 

Judal stopped as he reached his left arm, leaned over his chest and frowning at the injury. Well, injury seemed like a rather light word for it, he was missing the arm altogether. Where it should have been there was a stump with a ragged pinkish scab.

 

“What the hell happened to you…?” Judal found himself muttering softly, holding the mangled limb gingerly.

 

The cut was too clean to be an amputation. It looked like someone had very neatly taken a hot knife and slid it through butter, only nothing was supposed to go through muscle and bone that easily. More concerning though, the wound that should have been there… wasn’t.

 

There was no bandaging or sutures, indeed no evidence there ever had been, just a huge scab covering the entire open surface. Judal wasn’t a medical student, but he was fairly certain that was not how the human body worked. In fact, the longer he looked at it, the more he began to realize it wasn’t a scab, but a very thin section of brand new _skin_.

 

Now, Judal knew for a fucking _fact_ that wasn’t normal.

 

For the first time, Judal took a good look at the man he’d dragged up several flights of stairs and into his apartment. The first thing to strike him was that he was incredibly good looking, even covered in dirt and purplish blood. He had fine, sharp features and high cheekbones, and a strong jaw to accompany a thin, pink mouth. His hair was the same color as wet printer ink and was coming loose in long strands from a bun at the base of his neck.

 

Judal had a feeling his skin was likely a little more warmly colored than it currently appeared to be, but blood loss tended to do a number on one’s pallor. He was also, Judal couldn’t help but note, built to suit his armor. From what he could see of him through his rain soaked clothing, he had the kind of athletic build people spent years working towards.

 

And, he noted as one hand rose to brush aside dark bangs, he had ears that lifted at the top into points. For a moment, he considered tugging on one, but some ingrained instinct told him they were absolutely real.

 

He let his fingertips skate from the point down along the curve of his ear. A shiver passed through the unconscious man and Judal jerked his hand back.

 

“ _Shit_ …” Judal breathed, increasingly aware of the fact that he may have just thrown himself head first into something very dangerous. “I don’t know if I should be asking _who_ you are or _what_ you are.”

 

Unsurprisingly, the man didn’t respond.

 

A heartbeat passed, then Judal snapped into action again. There was a man possibly bleeding to death on his couch, and the only thing between him and an inevitable fate was Judal’s mediocre medical skills. He only hesitated a second before he simply stripped the man out of his clothes. Modesty was for those not dying of blood loss, he could pick a fight later.

 

Judal tried his hardest not to stare, but it was difficult not to. The scar marking the man’s face traveled down over half of his body, carving a cruel path of memorial pain over his pale skin. He didn’t want to think about what might have caused that kind of scarring when he had a body that seemed perfectly happy to start healing itself at rapid speeds.

 

The injuries Judal found were all surrounded by similar pinkish marks to the stump of his arm, already sealing themselves shut if they weren’t closed already. He passed a few marks he thought were scars, but he couldn’t be sure and didn’t stop to inspect. Methodically, he wrapped bandages around the man’s limp body until he found the first serious looking injury since his arm.

 

This one, Judal decided, was a lot more worrying. It was still open, letting a sluggish flow of off-color blood flow out of the man’s body down onto the carpet. It wasn’t particularly large, but as Judal leaned in to peer at it, he realized there was something lodged _inside_.

 

Some instinct told Judal that whatever was inside the wound was keeping it open and no amount of stitches or bandaging was going to help. If he kept bleeding like this, he wasn’t going to make it through the night.

 

“I really, really hope you don’t wake up.” Judal muttered absently, turning around and rummaging through the first aid kit.

 

Two minutes passed before he came up with a marginally above average sized pair of tweezers.

 

“Fucking _seriously_?!” he swore in scandalized fury. “I paid—Oh for the love of _fuck_!”

 

He turned back to look at the injury on the man’s side, then looked back to the tweezers. There was no way they were big enough, or for that matter strong enough, to get a hold of whatever was in him. Judal didn’t know much about anatomy, but he knew there were a lot of arteries and generally important organs in the vicinity of the wound. He didn’t feel like risking it.

 

He went for the latex gloves.

 

Even as he pulled them on, Judal questioned whether or not this was a good idea. _No_ , his common sense decided, _but you’re going to do it anyway_. Which was true.

 

Pressing one hand to the man’s side, Judal used thumb and forefinger to stretch the wound, just slightly. Blood gushed out in a small waterfall and he forced himself not to jerk back or swear. This needed his utmost attention. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment and counting backwards.

 

When he reached zero, his focus sharpened to the task at hand, his hands no longer shaking and his jaw clenched with resolve. He reached forward slowly, easing one finger just slightly into the open wound.

 

A person’s insides are hot. Not warm, but hot, like holding your hand a few inches over a fire. There was a similar feeling of danger to it as well, a latent instinct telling you you should really not be there. But Judal pressed on, making sure he had pressure on the thing embedded in the man’s side before catching the other side under his thumb.

 

He gripped, then, slowly, centimeter by agonizing centimeter, drew it out. It was painstaking. He barely breathed. The seconds ticked by like hours and his mind was a constant stream of prayers that the man did not choose this second to wake up.

 

Then, all at once, it came loose and with a last sharp jerk Judal pulled it free and drew back with a gasp of; “ _Yes!_ ”

 

Blood gushed out of the open puncture, then began to slow to a trickle, the edges of the wound drawing inwards ever so slightly. If he kept watching, he was sure he’d see the wound begin to close itself. He didn’t wait for that.

 

Judal dropped the object with a metallic clink onto his tabletop and immediately went for the bandages. The next five minutes were spent maneuvering the man’s body to allow him to circle the bandages around his middle. As an afterthought, he finally bandaged the stump of his missing arm, just in case.

 

“Okay.” he muttered to himself, sitting back. “Okay. I think that’s it. I think.”

 

Judal sat back on his knees, blinking at the man lying on his couch. He looked around, taking note of the purple bloodstains dotting his carpet and soaking into his couch. There was no way he was going to be able to salvage them, or his shirt for that matter. His eyes strayed to the object on his coffee table.

 

It looked like someone had hacked the handle off a throwing knife and just used the blade instead, if it could be called a blade. It was maybe five inches in length, but for some reason it was curved in several spots to almost resemble a slithering snake. It was difficult to tell what it was made from, seeing as it was coated in dark blood, but just looking at it made Judal shudder.

 

He looked back at the stranger. Maybe it was his imagination, but he almost thought the man looked peaceful now.

 

Lightning flashed outside, drawing Judal’s eyes to the window. A split second later, he gasped in horror, eyes widening.

 

“My groceries!” he hollered, completely forgetting the severity of what he’d just done and bolting up.

 

He scrambled into his shoes and out the door again, racing down the stairs two at a time to try and go save his drowned purchases.

 

On his couch, the fallen fae let out a slow sigh, another shudder rippling through him as magic began coursing through his body once more, skittering towards his wounds and sealing them shut.


	3. Chapter 2

The first thing Hakuryuu thought as he woke was that he wouldn’t be surprised to open his eyes and find a handful of pixies beating him with sticks. Everything either throbbed, ached or stung, leaving his body feeling as if it were one giant bruise. It was only an afterthought that the white hot pain in his side was gone, replaced with a needling ache instead.

 

It took him a moment to work his mental defenses back into place, dulling the pain enough that he could focus on something other than the desire to drop back into blissful darkness. He reached into himself, finding the comforting pulse of magic at his core and following the veins of energy through his body.

 

Rather obviously, his magic informed him, he was hurt. Badly. His left side was punctured and there was a rib still healing from a tricky fracture. A medley of healing lacerations would split open if he moved too quickly, and where his left arm should be, there was an abrupt halt just beneath his elbow. A majority of his magic flowed to this point, trying to do what it could for the missing limb.

 

He exhaled slowly, easing his eyes open as breath escaped his lips. It took several blinks to focus his vision, but once he had Hakuryuu found himself staring at a white ceiling he was entirely unfamiliar with. For a moment, he thought he was back in one of the countless rooms of the UnSeelie palace, only to swiftly realize that wasn’t possible.

 

The ceiling was too low, the white expanse apparently cracked in certain places unlike the refined stone he was used to. The air smelled of oranges and the pungent odor of blood, which he was sure was his own. Whatever he was lying on was made of a scratchy material that dug into his back at odd intervals, and the light filtering into the room was bleak, but warm.

 

Hakuryuu frowned, confused, and turned his head to see if he could find anything familiar in his surroundings by which to get his bearings. The first thing to greet him however was a pair of long, supple legs folded neatly so they crossed at the ankles, knees lying flat against the top of what seemed to be a low table.

 

He regarded the legs with mild interest for a moment, then cast his eyes upwards over the rest of the seated figure. They were wearing shorts that cut off several inches above the knee and in contrast, a long sleeved shirt that hung low enough to show off sharp collarbones. He noted a plait of dark hair over one shoulder before their eyes finally met.

 

The figure lowered the mug they’d been holding up to their mouth and a red tongue darted over their lips.

 

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

 

 _Compliments already?_ Hakuryuu thought with dry amusement. He brushed his thoughts aside, beginning to make the effort to push himself upright.

 

“Whoa, easy there! I don’t know if that’s a super idea.” There was underlying worry in the stranger’s tone. “I’m not a doctor or anything but maybe you should stay still.”

 

Hakuryuu acquiesced with a pained groan, lying back again. His body protested to the idea of any further attempts to move, and he decided to listen to its complaints.

 

It took him a few minutes to breathe through the pain, but the boy on the table didn’t seem terribly perturbed. He took another drink from the mug in his hands, his scarlet irises still affixed to the injured prince from under dark lashes.

 

Once he had his body under his own control again, Hakuryuu let out another slow sigh and decided to try to make his voice work.

 

“Where—“ he cleared his throat, swallowing spit to make his dry throat agreeable. “Where am I, exactly?”

 

“On my couch.” the dark haired boy answered plainly. “In my apartment. Not bleeding to death in a planter in the courtyard?”

 

The not bleeding to death bit was true, and remarkably pleasant as far as facts went at the moment, but the rest left the prince feeling befuddled. Why was he on a couch? And why was he in an apartment? If he were somewhere in one of the palaces, he’d be on a bed five sizes too big for him, and if he were back with the rebellion he’d be on a cot made of leaves.

 

He squinted at the cracked ceiling, brow furrowed, trying to remember how he’d come to be… wherever he was.

 

It came back to him all at once in a rush of violent colors and sounds. The rebellion hideaway had been attacked. He had split off from his companions, taking several of their attackers after him in pursuit. There had been a fight in the mountains, a stab of pain—That wretched _Ithnan_ had been there, and then in a moment of desperation—

 

Hakuryuu’s eyes grew wide.

 

In a moment of desperation he had used the last of his available magic to tear open a rift, sending his injured, unconscious body falling straight out of Sidhe and into the mortal realm.

 

With a sudden burst of panicked adrenaline Hakuryuu shoved himself upright, startling the mortal sitting by him. His senses reached out around him, clawing at surfaces and scavenging for any information they could garner about his unfamiliar surroundings. The smell of oranges was still abundant, the faint warmth of steam from a recently heated kettle, and— _Plants_.

 

Magic surged from him, rippling through the air with enough ferocity that the mortal tensed visibly.

 

“ _You!_ ” he hissed from between bared teeth, turning on the boy. “What did you _do_?!”

 

“Uh—“

 

“Tell me _exactly_!”

 

It was somehow both insulting and disconcerting to see confusion on the boy’s face rather than fear. Hakuryuu knew that he must seem alien to a mortal, especially when angered as he was. His pupils would be nothing more than catlike slivers by now, and he was revealing teeth hooked to animal sharpness. If none of his physical features did it, the aura of vicious power should at least be putting the boy on edge.

 

It wasn’t. At most the boy seemed faintly concerned, but nothing more.

 

“Well,” he began slowly, resting his mug on his ankles. “I was walking home. You fell out of the sky. I went over to see if I was hallucinating; turns out I wasn’t, go figure.”

 

Hakuryuu snarled and the boy picked up the pace of his tale.

 

“I saw you were hurt so I got you inside, got your uh, armor or whatever, off, and tried to do what I could for your injuries.”

 

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

 

“Your stuff is over there, by the way, I didn’t do anything to it.”

 

Eyes darted in the direction the mortal had indicated, falling on a pile of out of place objects. His armor sat heaped in a disorganized mess of straps and metal, though at first glanced it seemed mostly unharmed. Nestled in the corner beside it was his sword, returned to its sheathe and leaned up against the wall. A small stack of dark cloth seemed to be whatever remained of his clothing.

 

A brief flicker of relief eased the tension from Hakuryuu’s body at the sight of his belongings.

 

“You’ve just been sleeping.” the mortal informed him. “It’s like, a little past noon I think.”

 

Hakuryuu shot him a brief glower, than focused on replaying what he had said in his mind. His words had been short and to the point, erecting a basic image of events in the prince’s mind.

 

The more he thought about it, the more anger bubbled in his chest, rising up to fill his whole body. It wasn’t enough that he had been outsmarted, maimed, forced to flee in the most degrading way possible for one of his kind. No, now, he was entangled with a _mortal_?

 

“Boy…” he seethed from between his teeth. “Do you have _any_ idea what you’ve _done_?”

 

Cold fire burned in his contrasting eyes, affixing directly to the mortal beside him. The boy was not looking at him, but rather at the ceiling.

 

“I’m fairly certain the answer to that is “ _no_ ”.” the boy said. “But I’m also pretty sure that _you_ have some idea about _that_.”

 

For a moment Hakuryuu almost wanted to grab the boy by his braid and force him to meet his eyes. Few dared to ignore a fae and the insult was only adding to his uncontained anger. But after a moment he forced himself to look up at the ceiling instead.

 

Overhead, long vines had appeared, curling across the white paint and around the light fixture, following the cracks in the paint into an intricate lacework of greenery. The spindly tresses were beginning to descend towards their injured master, but had halted to sway lightly in the air as if aware they were being watched.

 

Hakuryuu tracked them backwards to a large section of missing wall, through which he could see what appeared to be a very small kitchen. A faint flicker of consciousness told him that the vines belonged to tomatoes, which his magic had just rendered inedible.

 

“Not that that’s not cool and all,” the mortal spoke up, finally sounding appropriately wary. “But could you maybe stop?”

 

 _Yes_ , was the automatic answer but Hakuryuu paused, turning over the mortal’s words carefully. _Could_ he stop? Yes. But the mortal had not asked him if he _would_ stop, only if he _could_. There was enough of a fault in his words that Hakuryuu could—

 

He stopped himself there and shut his eyes, drawing in a deep breath that tasted faintly of citrus. Several more calming breaths followed the first, easing his heartbeat back down to a slow drumming. Magic tingled against his skin, begging to be used. Rather than obey the urge he repressed it, forcing the vines back to where they had come from.

 

They went grudgingly, slithering back up to the ceiling and backwards along the cracks. Once they began retreating he turned back to his host and opened his eyes, his pupils rounded once more.

 

“I… apologize,” he said slowly. “That was incredibly ill-mannered of me.”

 

He inclined his head stiffly to the mortal, who he noticed had chosen to lean back from him slightly without leaving the table. The backwards tilt of his body was the only indication of his discomfort though, and he regarded Hakuryuu with careful eyes.

 

“I am in your debt.” Hakuryuu added, feeling an unpleasant weight settle on him as he spoke the words.

 

“Yeah, no, I usually rescue half-drowned, purple-blooded, plant controlling weirdos from my backyard.”

 

Hakuryuu raised a thin eyebrow.

 

“That was sarcasm.”

 

“Ah.”

 

An awkward silence fell between them, not at all helped by the prince’s sudden realization that beneath the blanket over his hips he was predominantly bare. He’d seen his folded clothes, but it hadn’t quite registered that that meant they weren’t on his body.

 

He pulled the blanket slightly higher around his waist as the mortal cleared his throat.

 

“So, what’s your name?”

 

Immediately, tension crackled in the air. Hakuryuu’s pale eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, a surge of rage fueled magic roaring up into his chest again. One did not lightly ask a fae for their name in the best of circumstances, but this mortal had some gall to ask when Hakuryuu could not deny him an answer.

 

He grit his teeth, fighting the urge to respond with the truth, as was his people’s way, but before he could the mortal held up his hands.

 

“Okay, okay! Look enough with the murder-death eyes!” he said, sounding incredibly exasperated. “ _God_ you’re touchy.”

 

Hakuryuu’s shoulders relaxed as he was freed from the obligation of an answer, but his anger was replaced with mild confusion. The boy sighed.

 

“Look. Let’s try this.” he stuck out a hand. “I’m Judal, and you’re welcome for letting you crash on my couch.”

 

The prince stared blankly at the mortal, flabbergasted.

 

Had the boy just… given him his name? _Willingly_? It wasn’t his full name, surely, but even a portion of a name held incredible power. Was he really so incredibly trusting? Or did he think that that much wouldn’t be of consequence? It crossed Hakuryuu’s mind that perhaps the boy was more than he appeared and he repressed a shudder.

 

“Y’know, generally,” Judal said, disrupting his thoughts. “When someone has their hand out like this, it means you’re supposed to shake it.”

 

The exasperated _I know what it means_ didn’t make it past Hakuryuu’s thoughts. No, he was otherwise occupied by a sudden wave of humbling shame. This mortal, Judal, had done nothing to earn his wrath and look how he had been behaving. Looking for faults in his words and unleashing his magic in childish bouts of rage; humiliating. He had been raised better.

 

Hakuryuu took the boy’s hand and shook, looking him in the eye as he did it.

 

“My name is Hakuryuu.” he said, feeling the name leave his tongue with a spark of magic in it. The spark passed from his lips to the mortal, and whether he noticed it or not, Judal shivered.

 

Then he smiled.

 

“Nice to meet you!” he said cheerfully, shaking his hand firmly before suddenly bouncing up from the table.

 

Hakuryuu was briefly on eye level with pale hipbones before Judal tugged his shirt down over the top of his shorts and collected his mug.

 

“You want something to drink? There’s juice, tea, hot chocolate—Uhh I probably have some instant coffee somewhere?? Oh, milk—“

 

“Ah—“ he blinked, startled by the sudden offer. “Juice, please.”

 

He watched Judal disappear into the kitchen, barely visible through the hole in the wall. He turned around, a bottle of something orange in one hand and immediately yelled, jumping back.

 

“Holy _shi_ \--! Dude! What the _hell_ did you do to my tomatoes?!”

 

Judal leaned out over the counter holding up one of the red fruits accusatorily. It was trailing almost a foot of vine behind it. Hakuryuu blinked. His magic should have set the fruit back to whatever state it had been in prior to his outburst, though that was clearly not the case. Perhaps he was more drained than he’d realized.

 

He opened his mouth to apologize, but Judal cut him off with a sharp sigh.

 

“Never mind, the vine thing was cool and they were gonna go bad anyway. Can’t even remember why I got the stupid things.”

 

Hakuryuu blinked at the mortal, feeling his surprise and confusion melting together. It seemed to be a common pair of feelings when it came to him.

 

Judal returned with a glass filled with juice and handed it off to his guest. He plopped himself back down onto the table, hooking his legs together again and watching the fae intently. Tentatively, Hakuryuu took a sip of the offered drink and immediately fought the urge to grimace.

 

It tasted like oranges, but only in the most superficial sense. The true flavor was layered under chemical sweetness and unnecessary sugar that clung to his taste buds unpleasantly. His body rebelled at the thought of such unnatural drink, but his throat was growing raw and he dreaded to think of the state of mortal water.

 

Electing to treat the drink like a tonic, he tipped his head back and drank it down as swiftly as he could. It burned going down and he had to clear his throat once he was done. Several swallows cleared the worst of the cloying sweetness from his tongue.

 

“Thank you.” he coughed, holding the glass out to his host. “And I apologize for the tomatoes.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. Just watch it with the vines and shit, this place is too small to be a greenhouse.”

 

Hakuryuu accepted the reprimand with a dignified nod of his head.

 

“I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. It won’t happen again.”

 

“Well don’t go that far.” he set the glass aside. “Getting angry is good for you. Just not when you happen to be leaking like a faucet.”

 

Judal’s eyes had dropped to look lower on his torso and Hakuryuu followed his gaze down to loosely wrapped bandages around his middle. Blotches of inky indigo were beginning to make stains on the bleached cotton. He hadn’t even noticed the pain as he moved his battered body, though now he spared a moment he could note at least four places he’d reopened wounds.

 

His host had already risen from the table again by the time Hakuryuu took stock of himself, returning moments later with a large box he dropped loudly onto the surface he’d vacated. He rummaged inside it a moment, drew out a roll of bandages, and turned around with a hand on his hip.

 

“Pretty sure that means we need to change those.” he informed. “And then you should probably lay back down and play dead a while. Or at least until your body gets done with that whole super-healing thing it’s doing.”

 

“Super…healing?”

 

Judal nudged the prince’s legs over enough that he could sit on the edge of the couch, unrolling the bandages into a pile in his lap.

 

“Yeah, you were all banged up last night but by this morning half the cuts were just _gone_!”

 

“Is that unusual?”

 

Apparently his mystified tone amused his host because Judal laughed, shaking his head and grinning without explanation. Hakuryuu frowned, wanting to ask why his question was amusing, but decided it wasn’t terribly important.

 

In his adrenaline fueled rage he had pushed himself more than was advisable and it was choosing now to catch up to him. His side and head were both beginning to throb painfully, and he could feel the hot ooze of blood in several places. What he wanted to do was lay back down and sleep the headache off, but he couldn’t do that until new bandages were arranged.

 

As Judal undid the bandages around his middle, it occurred to Hakuryuu that the boy had probably put them on his unconscious body with absolutely no help. That probably explain why they were such a mess. Or so he thought, until he began rewrapping him and the prince came to the rapid conclusion that his host had never cared for a major injury before in his life.

 

“Here,” he interrupted, halting the mortal’s movements. “Let me…help.”

 

He didn’t want to say _let me show you how, you’re doing it all wrong_ but he got the feeling Judal knew what he meant.

 

“Sure. I’ve only ever patched myself up.” Judal said with a lazy shrug. “Haven’t the damnedest what I’m doing, honestly.”

 

Hakuryuu felt he ought to be concerned, but instead was hit with another wave of humbling thoughts. Judal had had absolutely no concept of how to help him, but he’d done his best to anyway. Something about that struck a chord in him.

 

Three hands proved only slightly more functional than two, but between the fae’s instructions and the mortal’s ability to quickly pick up on cues, they managed. The new swath of bandages were fitted more tightly around his middle, which made him wince, but they did their job. When he noted and questioned the bandages around his missing left arm, Judal simply shrugged.

 

“Didn’t know how easily it was gonna get fucked up again, so I figured, why chance it?” he said.

 

“Thank you.” Hakuryuu responded absently. He stared at the stump of his missing limb for a few agonizing moments before tearing his eyes away.

 

Without speaking, Judal seemed to understand what he meant to ask of him and proceeded to retie the bandages in the same wrapping pattern Hakuryuu had shown him around his middle.

 

He checked over the rest of his injuries in silence, adjusting things here and there before suddenly resting his hands on the prince’s shoulders and shoving. Lost in thought and weaker than usual, Hakuryuu went down easily and with only a slight flash of panic.

 

Feeling him tense, Judal pushed him more insistently back against the couch.

 

“Go back to sleep.” he said sternly, and before there could be any protests; “You’ve got a six inch hole in your gut and you’ve already bled all over my couch. Don’t fuck yourself up worse.”

 

“I’m sorry about your c—“

 

Judal rolled his eyes, irises spinning like the last drops of red wine in an emptied goblet. He had fascinating eyes, Hakuryuu’s throbbing mind noted.

 

“ _Enough_ with the apologizing!” he snapped, exasperated. “Make it up to me by not dying because you’re too fucking stubborn to rest.”

 

Hakuryuu thought about arguing for a moment, but then decided grudgingly that his host was right. Dying in his quarters would be both incredibly rude and, for Hakuryuu’s purposes, incredibly inconvenient. Besides, his head was beginning to pound and the added pressure on his wounded side was making him feel every heartbeat like a physical blow.

 

He simply nodded his reply, realizing belatedly that his eyes had already slid shut again and wondering when that had happened. Vaguely, he was aware of the blanket around his middle being tugged up over his chest, and the warmth provided a small bit of comfort.

 

For just a moment fingertips brushed his chest, perhaps on accident as Judal rose from where he’d been settled. They sent sparks of heat dancing across Hakuryuu’s skin, and though he was sure it was just a trick of his unconscious mind, for a moment it felt like magic.


	4. Chapter 3

Judal had the niggling sense that he ought to be more concerned about what kind of trouble he may have gotten himself into. Common sense told him that he should keep an eye on his strange houseguest, but when had anything productive ever been accomplished by watching an injured person sleep?

 

Unless tracing his eyes over the curved point of Hakuryuu’s ears was considered productive in which case the answer was; _often_.

 

The fact was that Judal had already led trouble straight to his door and onto his couch. He couldn’t change that, and he probably wouldn’t even if he could, so what was the point in dwelling on it? Was he concerned? Sure he was. Some weird looking stranger was crashed out on his couch and could apparently turn innocent vegetables into weapons. That was very concern-worthy.

 

He didn’t have some _good feeling_ about Hakuryuu that made him want to trust him or anything, but what was done was done. He’d stuck his fingers inside the guy in an amateur version of minor surgery; he was pretty sure that counted as being involved in whatever came next.

 

Hakuryuu woke up halfway through pancake number four and made a noise that sounded vaguely like a dying animal. Judal flipped the pancake, then tossed a glance over his shoulder. The glance turned into a longer look, his eyes watching through the wide opening in the wall as his guest sat up.

 

Sometime during the night, Hakuryuu’s hair had come free of whatever style he’d pulled it back into. It fell around his shoulders in a dark, glossy sheet and he tucked it back behind his pointed ears repeatedly. The fine strands kept slipping loose, and Judal looked away after the fifth time.

 

“Morning!” he called out, prodding at the pancake with his spatula. “You bleeding any?”

 

“Good morning.” Hakuryuu replied with another low groan. “And no, I don’t appear to be. The fractured rib has healed as well, thankfully.”

 

Judal slid the finished pancake onto the stack and went for the batter, then paused. Had he ever mentioned a fractured rib? Had he even checked for one? Batter sizzled as it hit the greased pan and he decided it didn’t matter.

 

“You hungry?”

 

“I’m famished, actually.”

 

Slices of strawberries scattered over the batter. For a moment Judal regarded the assortment, then added another handful from the bowl beside him.

 

“Great. How many do you want?”

 

“How many what?” Hakuryuu asked.

 

“Pancakes!”

 

There was a pause. Judal personally didn’t think the answer should take the considerable amount of thought that Hakuryuu was putting into it, but he wasn’t one to judge. Maybe on top of controlling vegetables and healing super-fast, he could calculate his exact hunger to pancake ratio.

 

“…I feel this may be a foolish question, but what exactly is a pan cake?”

 

Judal immediately backpedaled from the stove, taking the pan with him till he was leaned out the doorway. Hakuryuu was looking at him with furrowed brows.

 

“I’m sorry, did I just hear right? You don’t know what a pancake is?”

 

“No. I do not.”

 

“Okay I’m not sure where you’re from, but it is clearly a sad and culinarily lacking world.”

 

Hakuryuu’s brows furrowed further, confusion morphing into displeasure.

 

“Our food is marvelous, and far purer than anything here I assure you. And _culinarily_ isn’t a word.”

 

“Oh my god don’t tell me you’re a vegan.”

 

“A what?”

 

“Vegetarian?”

 

“I eat meat, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“Okay so you’re just some farm to table hippie.”

 

Judal ducked back into the kitchen, returning the pan to the heat, completely missing the look of pure and total bewilderment on his guest’s face.

 

“There are many kinds of food where I am from but I am yet to come across anything referred to as a cake made in a pan.” Hakuryuu said petulantly.

 

Rather than reply, Judal just laughed.

 

It took him twenty minutes to finish cooking two stacks of pancakes and smother his own in honey and butter. He almost did the same to the plate meant for Hakuryuu, then thought better of it. Best to let him decide on his own, if this was to be the first pancake of his life.

 

He emerged from the kitchen with a plate in both hands and condiments stuck under his arm, settling himself back onto his coffee table, legs crossed.

 

“This one is for you,” he said, holding out the plain plate. “You like strawberries?”

 

Hakuryuu tucked another stray lock of dark hair behind his ear, but this one no more obeyed than the ones before it had.

 

“I do.” he said, nodding as if in affirmation.

 

He took the plate, setting it in his lap as Judal had done, then accepting the fork he was offered. Judal dug in immediately, cutting off a piece with the side of his fork. Hakuryuu merely watched him for a moment, clearly trying to ascertain how one was meant to properly consume a pancake.

 

He got the idea and cut off his own piece, tentatively taking a bite. Judal watched as he chewed, swallowed, and then looked down at the plate with something like surprise.

 

“Good?”

 

Hakuryuu’s tongue darted over his lips.

 

“Impressively so.” he murmured, and from his tone it sounded like it was meant to be high praise. His eyes flicked to Judal’s plate. “What do you have on yours?”

 

Judal held out the honey as answer.

 

“They’re kinda dry without it, I think. Plus, makes ’em sweeter. You want butter?”

 

“No thank you.”

 

He applied far less honey than Judal had used, handed the bottle back, and started eating without another word. Taking this as a good sign, Judal smiled to himself and tucked back into his own meal.

 

The plate in front of Hakuryuu didn’t even last fifteen minutes. There was a brief awkward pause before Judal chose to mention he had leftover batter. He asked if Hakuryuu wanted more and got an immediate affirmative. His own plate was finished standing at the stove and he returned with another stack for his guest, this time made with the last banana he had on hand as he was out of strawberries.

 

This plate also disappeared as quickly as the first, this time with Judal sipping a glass of orange juice between interested stares.

 

“So I’m guessing the whole super-fast-healing-thing takes a _lot_ of energy.” he commented, halfway through the second to last pancake.

 

Hakuryuu glanced up at him, chewed, swallowed, then asked;

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“Basic bodily function.” Judal shrugged. “Food gets processed by our metabolisms into energy, excess fat gets put on the body. You’re all muscle, so all that fat gets put into energy, and since you’ve got an enhanced healing rate compared to me, it must get put towards that.”

 

He downed the last of his juice.

 

“And your whole weird tomato controlling thing.”

 

Judal met Hakuryuu’s discolored gaze and got the distinct impression that the man was looking straight through him. Something in his eyes was calculating, dangerous in a way Judal didn’t quite understand, but he knew why it was there. He hadn’t expected him to be smart. Yes, it was just a minor observation of metabolism in relation to healing, but it proved Judal to be observant and _intelligent_.

 

He wasn’t sure if it was some vibe he gave off, but no one ever expected him to be intelligent.

 

“You’re correct.” Hakuryuu acquiesced after several long moments. Judal exhaled, though he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. “I, and others like myself, require a high intake of sugars and proteins. Sustenance in general. And on that note.”

 

He leaned over, gritting his teeth as he bent ever so slightly, clearly straining his side. The plate came to rest on the tabletop and he sat back with a muted sigh.

 

“I would like to express my gratitude for your hospitality. I admit, I was not expecting such adherence to the roles of a host, but you have surprised me again, Judal.”

 

“I’m not totally sure what roles a host is supposed to have but if that’s your way of saying _thanks for letting me sleep on your couch_ , no problem, you’re not exactly in the kind of shape to be getting up.”

 

Judal scooped up the dirty dishes and unfolded from the table, crossing back to the kitchen.

 

“I was referring to the responsibilities of a host.” Hakuryuu said, turning himself to look at Judal through the opened wall.

 

The dishes went into the sink and Judal turned on the cold water. He didn’t like doing dishes, but he liked roaches even less. His building wasn’t exactly a four star resort and he’d rather stand an extra five minutes than invite insect invaders into his apartment.

 

“Didn’t know there was some rulebook on being a host.” he commented with some amusement. “Are there instructions on proper couch etiquette in there, too?”

 

There was no reply. Judal shrugged it off as Hakuryuu having a limited sense of humor; the guy couldn’t even read sarcasm so it wouldn’t be surprising.

 

However when he glanced back at him he had an unreadable expression on his face, eyes fixed piercingly on Judal.

 

“…You’re not aware of what I am.” he spoke, softly. “Are you?”

 

For a moment, Judal was not sure how he had heard him. The water was running and metal was clicking against cheap ceramic. Pale lips barely moved as the injured man spoke, and his tone was so soft it should have been barely a whisper.

 

But he heard it clear as day, and for a moment Judal felt something tingle along his spine in a manner that raised every hair on the back of his neck. He turned off the water and dried his hands.

 

“That depends.”

 

“On?”

 

Judal stepped back into the open living room, crossing his arms over his stomach.

 

“On whether or not the answer _no_ is going to be followed by an explanation.”

 

Hakuryuu stared at him and for a second time, Judal had the distinct impression he was looking far deeper than his skin. He felt his gaze pushing into him, slithering under his flesh and worming into his bones. It sought through his thoughts and tickled against the back of his throat, searching through him like a curious whisper.

 

He stared back. Even as instinct screamed for him to break their line of sight and never again look into those arctic depths, he stared. He looked until he could see his irises pulling into long slivers, until he could see sparks of blue dancing across his vision. Something roared in his ears like wind in a storm and Judal felt suddenly very cold and very far from his tiny apartment.

 

Hakuryuu spoke.

 

“Sit down, _Judal_.”

 

Something shivered through the air. His thoughts did not compel him, his body moved with only those words as prompting. By the time his mind considered if he wanted to be sitting, he was already lowering himself onto the low coffee table.

 

Hakuryuu turned as he walked and held his gaze all the way until he sat. Judal wanted to shiver and hug himself, escape the feeling of cold that started in his head and crept through his whole body. Instead, he willed himself to speak and words tumbled forth before he could consider them.

 

“Do _not_ do that again, _Hakuryuu_.”

 

The effect was subtle, but immediate. Hakuryuu’s jaw tensed and his pupils became so thin they were little more than lines cutting his irises neatly in half. For a moment he bristled, as if ready to fight some invisible adversary, and then all at once it was over. The cold vanished, the sensation of being picked apart with it, and Hakuryuu’s pupils filled out again.

 

“…You _are_ impressive.” he mused, more to himself than Judal.

 

Judal watched warily as his guest turned himself so they were facing one another properly, leaned back against the couch. The blanket around his waist slid low and pulled away from one pale leg, momentarily drawing his gaze. It was difficult to ignore the fact that the man across from him was predominantly naked, even in the face of what his mind was telling him was imminent danger.

 

Yes, it was Judal who had stripped him of clothing but he hadn’t exactly been _looking_. He’d been a bit preoccupied with the thought that he may have a dead, or at the very least maimed, body on his couch if he wasn’t careful. Now that Hakuryuu was awake however, his state of undress became… _distracting_.

 

He did not remedy the state of the blanket, and Judal met his eyes again. For a moment, he swore he saw something like satisfaction, or perhaps amusement.

 

“You haven’t answered my question.”

 

“You haven’t answered mine.” Judal retorted.

 

Hakuryuu almost smiled.

 

“Yes. I intend to enlighten you of what you do not know. And so?”

 

Judal felt like he was about to sign a very badly constructed contract with a lot of fine print He'd never done such a thing before, but if he had to imagine, he felt it would feel a lot like this. Or maybe this actually felt like an even worse idea.

 

“I know you dropped out of the sky.” he said. “I know you heal faster than a human, and you look like you stepped out of a fantasy novel. I know you can make things grow, even supposedly dead things, and I know you just did _something_ to me.”

 

He drew in a breath, then exhaled slowly.

 

“And no. I do not know what you are.”

 

Hakuryuu regarded him thoughtfully. The silence stretched over long years that were actually seconds, but the effect madeof making Judal want to squirm justwas the same. He didn’t. He sat perfectly still because he felt like showing even one fraction of weakness in this moment was the worst idea he could ever imagine.

 

Perhaps this was the reaction Hakuryuu had wanted, because he made a low humming noise before speaking again.

 

“You mortals have many names for my kind, spanning across civilizations and cultures. Like many things you neither understand nor believe in, my kind have been reduced to something comical in your modern societies.”

 

“We tend to do that with shit we’re afraid of.”

 

“Are you afraid of me?”

 

“Should I be?”

 

A flicker of a smile crossed Hakuryuu’s expression. He continued.

 

“Once we were most commonly referred to as _Sidhe_ , but in these times I believe we are called _Fae_.” he tilted his head. “If I remember correctly you misspell it as _f-a-i-r-y_ when it is _f-a-e-r-i-e_ , but they’re spoken the same.”

 

Judal blinked.

 

“Faeries. As in… Pixies? Sprites? _Elves?_ ”

 

Hakuryuu’s smile was visible this time and he inclined his head, apparently pleased.

 

“All those. Goblins, brownies, nymphs and naiads. Many more, some whose names have been lost to time, even in my realm.”

 

“And you are?” Judal asked.

 

“I admit,” Hakuryuu went on, glossing over the question as if it hadn’t been asked. “I was concerned you might liken me to my more minute brethren.”

 

“You haven’t got wings and you left a trail of blood, not fairy dust.”

 

“Pixie dust.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Hakuryuu, apparently, found Judal’s flippant attitude amusing because he chuckled. It was a brief noise, but it made endorphins rush to Judal’s brain like a cheap high. He shook it off, glancing to the side before looking back at the fae in front of him.

 

“These _responsibilities_ a host has.” he said. “They’re a fae thing?”

 

“Yes. A binding contract, enacted the moment you took me into your care.”

 

“I’m not a faerie though. Humans haven’t got anything like that.”

 

“It matters not.” Hakuryuu nodded his head towards the door. “The moment you carried me across your threshold, you assumed responsibility as caretaker, and by extension invited me as your guest. As a result, I am bound by the rules of a guest, as you are as a host.”

 

The earlier sense that he ought to be concerned reared itself from the grave, reborn as a mounting feeling of dread. He knew he’d gotten himself involved with something dangerous, but this reached further into the bounds of insanity than he’d considered going.

 

What was done was done, he reminded himself. Now, he had to survive it.

 

“Alright.” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Explain these rules.”

 

Hakuryuu leaned back, giving himself the vantage point of looking down at his host.

 

“Are you sure you want to know?”

 

“Or what, entrap myself somehow by inadvertently breaking one of them?” he raised an eyebrow. “Your kind may have been turned into kid’s movies and princess birthday parties but the old stories are still stocked on library shelves.”

 

“You think I would try to trick you, Judal?”

 

“I think you’re doing a lot more asking than answering, and you’re avoiding my question. You said these rules are a binding contract, and I know enough to know you don’t break promises. I brought you in here unconscious. You didn’t want in on this contract any more than I did, and you’ll do what you have to to get out of it I bet.”

 

Hakuryuu parted his lips. His tongue ran slowly over his teeth and Judal tried not to stare at his sharp incisors. He wondered for a moment if he’d ever ripped someone’s throat out with them.

 

Probably.

 

“Thresholds have power.” Hakuryuu said, still leaned back so he could look down on Judal. “Few fae can cross them without explicit permission. Those few who manage leave an enormous portion of their power at the door. When invited, however, we are bound by certain rules.

 

"We will do no harm to the occupants of the household we enter. We will cause no damage to their property and treat their belongings with the same courtesy were they our own. While we are their guests, we will repay their kindnesses with our own, and their cruelties in kind.

 

"The host is bound by similar rules. They are responsible for the care and wellbeing of their guest, their health as well as their safety. If the guest breaks a rule, they are allowed to seek recompense in whatever form they see fit.”

 

Judal listened to the explanation intently, and once it was done he remained silent. Hakuryuu allowed him his thoughts, watching him with those cold eyes of his, expression betraying nothing.

 

“Those are pretty loose rules.” Judal noted, eventually.

 

The fae merely cocked a brow at him in question.

 

“Well. All they say on your end is that you won’t mess with my stuff, but they follow that with you treating it like it was yours. For all I know you break your plates after every meal, and if you say that, then you’re not breaking any of the rules.”

 

“That is true.”

 

“And you’re not allowed to hurt me, but you’re not stopped from somehow causing me to hurt myself.”

 

“You think I’m capable of that?”

 

“I think you’ve got magic.”

 

Hakuryuu dipped his head into a nod of agreement. He regarded Judal the same way a bird of prey did a snake, gauging its opponent and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Judal had found the loopholes in the contract, but that didn’t make him dangerous.

 

Judal took a deep breath.

 

“But,” he said, his voice calmer than he’d expected. “All it says I’m responsible for is your health and wellbeing. I could feed you bread and water and lock you in a room and I wouldn’t be breaking that contract. Or I could put you in a coma and hook you up to an IV. Same deal. Right?”

 

The fae smiled. Judal wasn’t sure if it was meant to be threatening, but for some reason he almost thought it looked a touch _proud_.

 

“That’s exactly right.” Hakuryuu affirmed. “You’re remarkably quick to learn.”

 

Judal brushed the compliment off.

 

“When you first woke up you got pretty fucking pissed when you realized I’d brought you over a threshold. You don’t seem the type to be pissed off about having to play nice with a human for a little while, not when there’s so many ways for you to duck the rules.”

 

“Was there a question there?”

 

“Yeah. What got you so ticked off, Hakuryuu?”

 

A frown drew over his lovely features, the barest hint of a snarl curling his lip. It only lasted a moment, then he schooled his expression back into a cool mask.

 

“The obligations of a guest, among other things.”

 

The answer was so clearly a dodge that Judal couldn’t help rolling his eyes. He sighed sharply and sat back, pushing himself up and off the table. Hakuryuu watched him as he rounded the couch, walking briskly towards his bedroom door.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To get you something to wear, which isn’t apparently required of me, but I’m also not a fucking _jackass_. And kindness for kindness, right?”

 

He turned on his heel, fixing a cold glare on the fae.

 

“So let me be clear. You _ever_ use your magic to compel me to do something again, I don’t care what it is, and I will make sure your stay as my guest is _as uncomfortable_ as possible. Am I clear, Hakuryuu?”

 

Judal did not notice, his flash of anger still raging in his belly, but a similar shiver passed through the air towards Hakuryuu. He tensed a moment, and then nodded.

 

“I understand. It will not happen again.”

 

“Good.”

 

Judal turned, pulling open the door to his bedroom.

 

“You asked what I was.”

 

He paused, one foot inside his room and the other out. Hakuryuu sighed.

 

“I am all and none of what my brethren are. I am a descendant of an ancient line with no name you would know, or understand. Among my people I… am royalty.”

 

He knew that Hakuryuu hadn’t moved but Judal swore he felt breath brush his cheek. Those eyes on his back but closer than they had been a second ago. He had the overwhelming urge to cross into his room and slam the door, barricade himself inside and cover the single window.

 

It wasn’t fear. Just the undeniable sense that a being far outside his scope of comprehension was close enough to tear him apart, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

 

“I owe you a debt, Judal.” Hakuryuu continued. “One of great magnitude. You have given me shelter, cared for my wounds and kept me fed. My belongings are well kept and undoubtedly, I owe you my life. Just one of these acts would burden me with a debt to you but all of them make me bound by it.”

 

Judal turned, his hand still on his bedroom door, and met Hakuryuu’s gaze again. Now that he knew what he was, he knew that the sparks and shivers dancing through the air were _magic_ and they moved faster with every word Hakuryuu spoke.

 

“I am an honorable creature, Judal. I intend to repay my debt to you in full.” Hakuryuu blinked. Just once, slowly. “Until that time, I give you my word that I am bound in your service.”

 

The air was suddenly sparkling with static electricity. It danced in front of Judal’s eyes and sparkled against his skin, leaving goosebump kisses where it touched. He felt the magic, alive, all around him. A contract, sealed whether he wanted it to be or not.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise chapter! 
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the United States; I know this time can either be incredibly joyful or incredibly difficult for some people, or an odd combination of the two! I hope everyone manages to have a good day today, and please enjoy the new chapter.

Judal’s room looked something close to typical if you just glanced around. He didn’t make his bed and his desk lamp was perpetually on, books were scattered across various surfaces instead of on their proper shelves, and he had a collection of juice cans on one corner of his bedside table he kept meaning to throw out. But there were no posters on the walls, no photos of family or pets, no calendar. All his books were second hand and all his furniture was mismatched. Disjointed.

 

It looked homey, but impersonal. Like at any moment Judal could get up and leave it all behind without worrying too much about how he was going to replace it. He’d made himself something comfortable out of used pieces other people discarded, and that seemed to suit him.

 

Permanence was something Judal was learning. Growing up, change had been a constant and every guaranteed “certainty” seemed more effervescent than the last. He’d known there was such a thing as children with parents and siblings, homes they lived in for decades and rooms they never worried about being gone, he just hadn’t been one of them.

 

The one thing Judal owned in excess was clothing. His dresser was crammed full of a disorganized mess of cloth sorted into tangled arrangements only he understood and the bottom of his closet was a sea of even more. There were things he wore constantly and things he had bought and tossed out of their bags never to be touched again.

 

He’d lived out of the same bag of clothing for years growing up. New things were second hand, passed from the last foster child to outgrow them to him. If he grew too much too fast he just had to live with shirts that constantly rode up over his stomach and jeans that didn’t cover his ankles.

 

Did he need as much clothing as he now owned? No. Should he spend as much money on clothing as he did? Probably not. In fact arguably he could have blindly gotten rid of half of his collection and never even noticed. But the clothing was _his_ , and that meant more to him than the actual articles themselves.

 

And besides, you never knew when you were going to have to clothe a faerie prince, having a wide selection to choose from was beneficial!

 

“Yeah. Sure.” Judal sighed to himself, hanging his head. “That’s absolutely what I had in mind.”

 

Alright, so you find yourself housing a fae, inadvertently locked in some ancient contract of guest and host, and he’s just gone and sworn himself into your service until the debt you unintentionally led him to incur is paid off. What do you do?

 

Well firstly, you find him something to wear because it’s incredibly distracting to keep seeing his bare skin and he probably knows it.

 

Judal pulled open every single drawer in his dresser and the door to his closet, rummaging through one at a time. He really should take everything out and fold it. He wouldn’t, but he should. The state of disarray might be familiar but it wasn’t exactly practical. While he was at it, he should sort things into what he loved, what he wore occasionally, and what he hadn’t even seen since buying it. Again, not a task for today, but something to keep in mind.

 

It took him about a half hour to go through everything and come up with clothing he thought might fit his guest. They were about the same height, from what he could garner, but the fae had a distinctly different build than he did. He settled on sweatpants instead of jeans and a long sleeved shirt he knew was too big for his slim torso but would probably fit Hakuryuu snugly. He dug a pair of socks out of a drawer as an afterthought, not sure if fae got cold but knowing that one could not trust the spotty heating in his building for crap.

 

Halfway through folding the shirt, Judal realized he was stalling.

 

Scared wasn’t the right word for what he was feeling. _Overwhelmed_ maybe, but even that didn’t fit as well as it should. Sure, his conversation with Hakuryuu had left him with a lot to think about but it wasn’t making his thoughts into any kind of jumbled mess.

 

But there was doubt.

 

Judal had a bad habit of finding himself in the kind of trouble he couldn’t have seen coming and generally didn’t deserve to be involved in. As a child, it had been little things. One of his foster fathers tried to cut his hair and the scissors broke, his foster brother stole the shared Gameboy and it suddenly died in his hands, a cassette Judal hated got scrambled beyond redemption.

 

In school he had stood up to bullies only to have the kid he was defending turn on him not ten seconds later, saying he didn’t need to be protected by some freaky orphan. Teachers blamed him for things his classmates did, because who was going to complain at parent teacher conference? If something bad happened in his general vicinity, somehow he got tangled up in it.

 

He’d discovered the best way to avoid this happening was to simply avoid people in general. If he kept to himself his peers were less likely to drag him into their shenanigans and if he got good grades adults tended to leave him alone. As long as he made an incredible effort to avoid trouble, he did alright.

 

And now he had a world’s worth of trouble on his couch. Of course he’d known that Hakuryuu was into _some_ kind of sketchy nonsense but to be a _fae_? That was far outside even his scope of assumption. If he got involved, or at least more involved than he already was, who knew where it could lead.

 

Of course, he couldn’t go back and change the past. _What’s done is done_ had been his motto since this whole thing started, and he repeated it back to himself now. It didn’t have the calming effect it had before.

 

Judal took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pushing both hands into his hair, shoving his bangs away from his face for a moment.

 

The real question was, if he _could_ go back and change things, would he? Would he watch Hakuryuu fall from the sky in the middle of an unremarkable rainy night and choose instead to just keep walking to his front door? Would he leave him there to bleed and not think about it twice? It would continue to rain, he would put his mostly dry groceries away, take a hot shower and go to bed. No debt, no faeries, no sense of impending doom.

 

But also no knowledge that magic was real and faeries liked pancakes. No use for his enormous medical kit, which would continue to sit in the bathroom and be scowled at in varying intervals. No malicious tomatoes or one armed faerie princes who didn’t quite understand humor.

 

If he could go back, right now, and stop himself from getting involved in all of this, would he?

 

Judal grinned, releasing his hair and relaxing his shoulders.

 

“ _Hell_ no.”

 

Immediately, he felt lighter, the weight of whatever emotion he’d been carrying lifting off him without another word. Judal mussed a hand through his hair, at ease once more, and scooped up the clothes.

 

“Hey Hakuryuu, think you can stand? I found somethin’ that should fit you!”


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone has noticed, the chapter titles have changed! I wasn't originally going to bother doing this but considering title-formatting that will come in later will be necessary, I figured I might as well.
> 
> EDIT: This chapter has received some [lovely fanart](http://abimatsu.tumblr.com/post/153809713764/a-golden-moment-in-serendipity-and-the-things) by **abimatsu** !!

Hakuryuu leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling, tracing the cracked paint with his eyes. He wondered if he’d been a little too forward with his host, but dashed this thought almost immediately. For someone who hadn’t been able to tell that he was a fae, Judal had picked things up remarkably fast.

 

Hakuryuu had meant every compliment he’d given, even if they had come out with an undertone of something else. It was in faerie nature to constantly speak as if their words had a double meaning, regardless of whether they did or not. Honesty, that was their curse; a faerie could never lie. That didn’t mean they couldn’t be deceitful, they were some of the trickiest creatures in existence, but they could not tell an outright lie.

 

Judal had caught on to the power of names without so much as an explanation. Hakuryuu’s use of Judal’s name had been, for the most part, unintentional. He had laced his words with power on instinct and thought nothing of it until that same power was suddenly turned on him. No human should so easily discern the worth behind a name. Maybe he hadn’t; but some part of Judal had _known_.

 

It had been the same when he was explaining the rules binding a faerie and their host. Judal had seen right through the carefully crafted loopholes that had kept fae in the upper hand for centuries as easily as Hakuryuu had the day he was taught them. He was brilliant, though perhaps not in a traditionally mortal sense, and that made him particularly dangerous.

 

Yet despite all of that, Judal was kind.

 

He had understood the power behind a name, perhaps subconsciously but well enough to use it twice, and neither time had he been cruel. Even after knowing what Hakuryuu could get away with under the rules that bound him, he hadn’t ordered him to do anything to prevent any of the loopholes. All he’d said was to not use magic to compel him.

 

For a fae, that was practically the _least_ of what they could do, but that was all he had asked. Kindness for kindness, he had trusted in receiving Hakuryuu’s respect in return.

 

Instinct told Hakuryuu to exploit this. He could use that trust against Judal and milk him for whatever he needed. Humans were easy to manipulate, a race driven by very base desires that could easily be fulfilled by someone of Hakuryuu’s power. In fact, thinking about it, it would be very simple.

 

Hakuryuu licked his lips.

 

At first he’d pretend to be weakened by his injuries. He’d let that draw out as long as it could, taking shelter behind the human’s threshold and oblivious protection. If anything came for him, he’d use him as his shield. But assuming the human city kept him hidden from his mother’s forces, once he was “recovered” he’d start playing to the human’s old fantasy of a “fairy godmother”.

 

He’d give him things. Material nonsense Hakuryuu had no use for, until the human was dependent on him. From Judal he’d extend out to his friends, family, neighbors… He’d make a network of humans dependent on what he could offer them, willing to do whatever he asked in return.

 

Hakuryuu jerked his head forward as if to physically pull himself out of his thoughts. He pressed his forehead to his palm and squeezed his eyes shut until the light behind his eyelids was spotty. As he breathed between his teeth he forced the malicious thoughts inside him to silence themselves. Oh all fae had thoughts like this, he wasn’t special, but his were _strong_.

 

If he wanted he could blame it on the court he came from. UnSeelie were known for their violence, their indulgence into the more carnal side of instincts and their viciousness. It wasn’t the fault of his court though, and he knew it. It was the fault of the blood running through his veins.

 

And the fact was, he didn’t _want_ to enslave Judal. That was why he had sworn himself to him.

 

Whether he had acknowledged the debt or not, it still would have existed. However if Judal hadn’t known about it there was no way for him to collect on it, and in turn no need for Hakuryuu to repay it. It wasn’t lying, just withholding information, which was directly within a fae’s wheelhouse of tricks.

 

Yet he had gone so far as to not just acknowledge it, but swear himself to it. On the surface it seemed purely honorable of him, but in truth it was just as much a gift as it was a preventative measure.

 

His hand carded through his hair and he leaned back again with a sigh, feeling the dark urges receding inside him once more.

 

So long as he was sworn into Judal’s service, the mortal was something of a lord to him. By his own people’s laws, he could do him no harm, wish him no ill, and only default on these terms under punishment of dishonoring the crown. And to dishonor either of the Faerie Queens was the same as death.

 

Granted, the Queen of UnSeelie court was his mother and she _already_ wanted him dead, but it was the principle of the thing.

 

This way, Hakuryuu could allow himself to recover without constantly fighting with himself. As soon as the oath set in and his magic fully acknowledged it, all dark thoughts pertaining to Judal would be mostly silenced and he could have some peace.

 

He truly did want to repay Judal for what he had done. It had been stupid in a lot of ways, taking some random stranger in from a “planter” (whatever that was) and bringing them into his home. Hakuryuu could have been everything from a psychotic serial killer to… well what he was, honestly. Judal had gone and done it regardless.

 

Foolish, maybe, but _good_ … Yes. Definitely. Good enough for Hakuryuu, at any rate.

 

“Hey Hakuryuu, think you can stand? I found somethin’ that should fit you!”

 

Hakuryuu blinked out of his thoughts, pushing his hair away from his face again.

 

“I’ll try.” he called back, easing his legs over the side of the couch.

 

Getting up was not a fun experience. Actually standing took several tries and a lot of groaning, but he got to his feet after the fourth attempt. His body immediately informed him it would rather by lying down again, thank you, but he ignored it.

 

“Here yo-Oh.”

 

He looked over his shoulder, finding that Judal had emerged with the promised clothing and was currently turning pink around the cheekbones. Humans could be so particular about modesty.

 

“You asked if I could stand.” Hakuryuu pointed out blithely, trying not to sound too terribly amused.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Judal threw the clothing at him and he caught it, hiding his smile as he turned away. He heard his host turn on his heel and march into the kitchen. The faucet squeaked as it turned and a moment later water began to run.

 

Hakuryuu debated how to dress himself most efficiently. Dressing while injured was one thing, but he had yet to attempt to dress himself sans an arm. He ended up sitting back down to pull on the pants, which were warm and soft and smell faintly of their owner. Getting them all the way on required standing again, which he accomplished with less effort the second time.

 

The shirt proved more troublesome. He forgot several times that he had only one hand and had to grit his teeth against the urge to just abandon the damn thing and remain shirtless. It took a lot of twisting and several uses of his teeth, but he got it on. He could feel the artificial fibers in the cloth’s makeup, but despite that it was comfortable.

 

As he pulled it down over his stomach, glad it was finally _on_ , his eyes caught sight of something glinting on the coffee table. Drawn by the glimmer he released the shirt and leaned over, forcing his body to cooperate, and pulled aside a bloodied napkin that was concealing the object from view.

 

“Sun and _stars--!!_ ”

 

Hakuryuu recoiled immediately as he swore, looking at the bloodied blade like it might come alive at any moment and lash out at him. As if reacting to the sight of the thing, a shockwave of pain tore from his wound and up his side, making him lose control of his legs and collapse, gripping the back of the couch.

 

There was a clatter, something broke in the direction of the kitchen, and a moment later Judal was easing him down onto the couch.

 

“Easy, _easy!_ What the fuck are you doing you can’t be moving that fast!”

 

Judal batted his hand from where it had gone to clutch at his side, pulling his shirt up an examining the bandages around his middle. The mortal swore under his breath and Hakuryuu followed his frown down to the sight of lilac blossoming over the white cotton.

 

“You tore it open.” he informed him. “You’re gonna need new bandages.”

 

“Let it bleed.” Hakuryuu huffed, sucking in a deep breath that did nothing to conceal how he winced. “I’ll tell you when it’s closed again… No point in ruining more bandages.”

 

Judal didn’t look happy with this response, but he relented. The fae took several moments to just breathe through the pain, erecting his mental defenses against his body’s screaming and focusing once more on the object on the table.

 

“Where did you get that?”

 

Judal’s eyes flicked to the blade, then back to Hakuryuu.

 

“I pulled that out of your side.” he told him bluntly. “Why?”

 

Hakuryuu shook his head, letting out a slow breath.

 

“If you hadn’t, I would be dead by now.” he informed gravely. “No wound would have healed with that inside my flesh. Stars, it’s a miracle enough of my magic managed to close off this.”

 

They both glanced down at the half empty left sleeve, and for a moment there was silence as they both became acutely aware how close that injury had been to killing the prince. Judal shook it off first.

 

“Why? Is it cursed or… something?”

 

“If only it were so benign. It’s iron.”

 

Apparently deciding to overlook that he’d just referred to curses as _benign_ , Judal frowned.

 

“Isn’t iron like, kind of _bad_ for fae? Like, really bad?”

 

“It’s our bane. Cold iron poisons our blood and stoppers our magic, it burns our flesh and can fell even the oldest and most noble of our kind. It is despicable metal, no fae would ever touch it.”

 

A second silence fell over them, heavier than the first and weighed down with words neither of them were willing to say. It was obvious the thoughts were churning away in Judal’s mind, but he didn’t voice them aloud this time. Hakuryuu was grateful for that, for the question was not one he wished to answer.

 

If iron was such an evil thing for fae, then who in their right mind would use it? Hakuryuu didn’t really need to ask the question, the answer was obvious to him.

 

His mother, who else?


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after the last chapter was posted the lovely **abimatsu** was kind enough to draw [fanart of one of the scenes](http://abimatsu.tumblr.com/post/153809713764/a-golden-moment-in-serendipity-and-the-things)! I added mention of it in last chapter's notes as well, but I thought I'd mention it again now!

“So… I see you’ve redecorated.”

 

Judal had left in a hurry that morning. After spending most of the previous night awake talking with Hakuryuu while he rewrapped his bandages, he had overslept. He couldn’t be sure if he had tied his shoes before he left the house, or if the three hair ties around his wrist actually belonged to him. It was a total mystery to him whether Hakuryuu was awake when he told him to help himself to the fridge and to have a good day before he left.  

 

He did however distinctly remember that his carpet had been red shag, his couch had been threadbare and sort of uncomfortable, and most of his furniture hadn’t matched. So, unless his eyes were playing very elaborate tricks on him, that in no way described the living room he had just walked into.

 

Where the shag had been this morning there was now a warm looking rug of deep, deep blue that appeared soft enough to fall asleep on. The couch had been transformed into black leather with a high back and a wide seat where one could comfortably fit their whole body. His coffee table, covered in nicks and scratches from whatever hell it had been through before being in his possession, had been replaced by one made of what looked like very dark, well-polished wood.

 

The rest of his furniture had apparently been treated to the same makeover. Mismatched cloth had all become complimenting shades of blue, varying between navy and cerulean, and the wood had all turned into the same expensive looking, dark kind as the coffee table. There were new drapes hanging in the windows and if he wasn’t terribly mistaken; a new coat of paint on his entire apartment in a shade of white so crisp it might have been fresh fallen snow.

 

In the middle of it stood Hakuryuu, dressed in a new pair of sweatpants and a shirt with short sleeves. His hand was resting on a potted plant that Judal had absolutely not owned that morning, and it appeared to be growing _around_ his hand. The fae looked around himself, as if only just observing how different the room looked.

 

“Well… Yes.” he agreed without much inflection.

 

Judal stepped inside, shutting the door behind himself and sliding his bag from his shoulder. It hit the floor with a muted thud as he toed off his shoes. Hakuryuu regarded him from across the room, but Judal merely raised an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation.

 

“I was going to discuss it with you,” he continued, taking the cue. “But you left quickly this morning, I thought it best to let you go without further distraction.”

 

“Okay but _why_?”

 

There must have been an edge to his voice because Hakuryuu’s expression shifted slightly. His eyes widened a fraction and he turned himself so that he was more openly facing his host.

 

“When I got up this morning I realized exactly how much I had bled. Much of your furniture was stained because of my carelessness, I thought it fair I replace it.”

 

“You really need to stop talking about nearly dying like a minor inconvenience.”

 

Hakuryuu merely blinked at him and Judal sighed, resisting the urge to rub his temples.

 

“How did you get this shit in here?” he asked eventually. “Your side only just stopped bleeding.”

 

Rather than reply, Hakuryuu disentangled his hand from the plant and walked over to the rug. Leaning over, he took the edge in hand and flicked his wrist. A ripple passed through it from where he’d started, somehow leaving all of the furniture resting atop it undisturbed in its wake. As he watched, the color shifted to a darker shade of blue.

 

Judal stared, marveling at the subtle change.

 

“Magic?” he questioned, even though he knew the answer.

 

“Magic.” Hakuryuu confirmed. “A very basic principle of it applied in a slightly more complex manner. Not terribly difficult.”

 

“Transformation, right?”

 

The fae gave him an appraising look as Judal knelt down across from him, rubbing his hand through the soft fibers of the rug.

 

“Correct.” he agreed again.

 

When it came to talking, Judal had come away with too many questions and not enough answers in conversation with Hakuryuu. Fae, as it turned out, were masters of outwitting their curse of honesty. Hakuryuu managed to talk him in absolute circles until Judal wasn’t sure if he had gotten an answer or not and never once seemed phased.

 

Trying to find the kernels of information amidst the riddles and cryptic answers was like pulling teeth. He suspected that, had Hakuryuu not liked him somewhat, it might have been considerably more like pulling teeth with tweezers.

 

Among his few concrete answers, Judal had learned something of magic. It existed on three basic principles; creation, transformation, and destruction. Creation referred to magic that brought something into existence from nothing. Transformative magic turned something that existed into something new. And destructive magic was not something Hakuryuu had allowed him to dwell on, but Judal thought it sounded relatively self-explanatory.

 

“So you transformed all my furniture.” Judal said, pushing himself back up to his feet. “So what, that’s your debt paid and whatnot?”

 

“My debt?”

 

Hakuryuu stood and even across the rug Judal was acutely aware of the fact that though the prince was an inch or so shorter than him he felt _bigger_ than the skin he was in. Like there was too much of him to be contained to something smaller than Judal.

 

“No.” he shook his head. “This was just courtesy.”

 

“Since when is replacing furniture good manners? Most people would just send a couple hundred bucks for the cleaning bill.”

 

“I suspect that very few mortals know how to remove faerie bloodstains. And besides, I did not do it entirely for your benefit.”

 

“You hate my furniture that much, Hakuryuu?” he laid a hand over his chest, expression exaggerated. “I’m _hurt_.”

 

Blue eyes rolled in response, but Judal was sure he saw amusement in them for just a moment.

 

“Your couch was ghastly. If I slept on it another night I’d have woken up with a crooked spine.”

 

“But that was part of its _charm_.”

 

Hakuryuu gave him a clearly unconvinced look, to which Judal just grinned, and turned back to the window. He returned to the plant, worming his fingers fluidly back into the greenery and focusing intently on how it began to wrap around his hand. Judal shuffled across the new rug to peer over his shoulder.

 

“You _created_ that, right?” he asked.

 

There was an agreeable hum as answer, but he remained quiet. He got the feeling Hakuryuu was the type to talk when he saw fit, and sometimes it was best to just wait and listen.

 

“I had to be sure my magic was flowing correctly.” he said eventually. “Adjusting your furniture was simple, good practice to be sure I could ease into something more complex.”

 

“Why a window plant?”

 

Hakuryuu remained silent, seeming to consider how to answer this.

 

“All magic comes from the three principles I told you of; creation, transformation and destruction. But these can manifest in many different forms. Some have an affinity for fire, others for illusions, others for ice, the list continues.”

 

“So all magic comes from the same stuff and basically works the same, but different people are better equipped to use it with different things?”

 

“In so many words, yes.”

 

“And you’re good with plants?”

 

The look Hakuryuu gave him looked like a smile, but the way his eyes flashed spoke of something far more sinister. Malicious was the wrong word for it, though there was a dark kind of amusement in him Judal didn’t know the name for. Like he knew something no one else did.

 

“Living organisms.”

 

Judal blinked, momentarily taken by surprise.

 

“What—Like… _Any_ organism?”

 

“Organisms with advanced sentience, such as humans or animals, are incredibly more difficult. Far outside my current scope of ability. But in theory, yes.”

 

They stared at one another, Judal’s expression drawn into something akin to someone waiting for the scare in a horror movie and Hakuryuu unreadably calm. There was a pregnant pause, and then;

 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of fucking terrifying? Especially when you do that whole blank expression thing after basically admitting you could conceivably control all living things.”

 

For a moment Hakuryuu was so stunned his expression dropped into almost comical shock. Then, he laughed. A real belly laugh that shook his shoulders and made him close his eyes and shake his head.

 

“You are fearless, you know that?” he chuckled, eyes dancing with amusement when he looked back at Judal, who was looking a little scandalized. “I can think of at least five people who would be utterly appalled to hear you speak to me that way, and that I allowed it.”

 

“I’m just calling it like it is. You’re really creepy when you want to be.”

 

“It’s not my intention.”

 

Several of the vines had begun twisting around Hakuryuu’s wrist, and though neither man had noticed, small flower buds had begun appearing in random intervals as he laughed. A few of them had blossomed into tiny flowers by the time he looked back down.

 

“I considered a larger base to work with, but ultimately decided the more concentrated the better.” Hakuryuu explained. “I’ll be using this to replace my left arm.”

 

Judal looked between the flowering vines and the fae.

 

“You’re gonna replace your arm with…a houseplant?”

 

“This is no domestic flora. It will take me some time with the constraints I must work with, but properly tended this will be growing into a _Silver Lady_. Or that’s the mortal name for it, anyway.”

 

“I’ve never heard of it.” Not that Judal was exactly well read on the subject of flora and fauna. He suddenly wondered if he should be brushing up on his biology.

 

“It’s a type of tree that only grows in Sidhe. The leaves are silver and the tree itself is white, inside and out. It’s quite beautiful, but I believe the story goes that a mortal mistook one for a woman in a snowstorm in our realm.”

 

“Well, not to be a stickler but those leaves are green.” Judal pointed out. “Also I’m not totally clear on the tree-to-arm process.”

 

“Oh, this isn’t the _Silver Lady_. I grew these to enrich the soil. They’ll reach their peak and wither soon, then rot and return to the earth. As is the cycle.”

 

Even as he said it, the flowers that had begun to blossom all along the curling vines started to darken in color. As they watched, they wilted, shrinking in on themselves and beginning to drop off into the dirt. The vines receded, curling back towards their roots as they shrunk.

 

Judal watched, fascinated by the rapid decline. They stood there in silence as the plant in the pot shriveled more and more until finally it melted away into the dirt. Almost as soon as it was gone however, new sprouts began to emerge from the soil, reaching up towards the light earnestly.

 

“That was beautiful.” Judal breathed, not totally intent on Hakuryuu hearing him.

 

The prince had, though. He cast a glance in his host’s direction, then looked back down at the pot. The sprouts had begun to spread and grow into some kind of grass and he lowered his fingertips amongst them, feeding them more of his power to hasten their growth.

 

“There aren’t many that would call death beautiful.” he said in an equally quiet tone. “Or did you mean what came after, the new growth?”

 

“All of it. The whole cycle of one thing to the next. You don’t see it happen so fast usually, or at least, us mortals don’t.”

 

He stared a while longer, watching the grass grow long around Hakuryuu’s fingers, then snapped his attention back to him abruptly.

 

“So. Your arm?”

 

Hakuryuu smiled faintly.

 

“I’ll be making it from the tree itself.” he explained.

 

“Oh! A prosthetic! You’re gonna carve it? Isn’t that gonna be a little hard with one hand?”

 

“Not carve, no.” Hakuryuu turned the same mysterious smile on Judal. “You’ll see. I’ll show you.”

 

The way he said it sent a hum through the air Judal was beginning to recognize as the faintest traces of magic. It had been there each time Hakuryuu had made some kind of promise, sending pleasant little shivers through him. He liked it, he had decided.

 

“Although,” the prince went on, turning to frown down at the pot. “If I had my original arm it would be much easier. This way will be difficult and likely painful.”

 

“Sorry, didn’t see any severed arms around when I picked you up.”

 

“You must have missed it.”

 

It took Judal a moment to realize that Hakuryuu wasn’t being serious. He’d made a joke. He caught the fae watching him out of the corner of his eye and grinned widely.

 

“I’m rubbing off on you!”

 

“I should hope not.”

 

Judal laughed, in part belatedly at the joke and in part because he was happy. Why the thought that he was influencing the prince at all made him feel so good he wasn’t sure, but it did, and he would take positive feelings where he found them. His chortles carried on longer than abjectly necessary, but he caught Hakuryuu smiling and it made him carry on.

 

He fell silent and they both returned to watching the growing plant, each content with the silence. Judal dropped into a crouch at some point, his eyes on level with the rim of the pot. He followed the growing blades of grass as they reached higher and higher, stems emerging among them and curving upwards, topped with bulbous buds. They flowered into bright yellow blossoms, then as quickly as the plant before, withered and died.

 

As this next plant returned to the earth, only to emerge as the next layer of soon to be fertilizer, Hakuryuu spoke. He did so without looking away from his project, but there was a light curiosity in his tone.

 

“Where is it exactly you ran off to this morning, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 

“Hm?”

 

For a minute, Judal completely forgot. He’d been so mesmerized by the growing greenery it took him a second to organize his thoughts.

 

“Oh. School.” he said bluntly. “Nowhere special.”

 

“School?”

 

“Yeah. Y’know. College? Higher education? Giant money pit for anyone unfortunate enough to go on their own dime?” he looked up at Hakuryuu, blinked, then said; “You haven’t got those, have you.”

 

Hakuryuu shook his head.

 

“No. Even “schools” as an organized concept are rare in the Sidhe realm. I was taught by instructors, but never at your age.”

 

Judal scowled up at him, obviously not appreciating his comment.

 

“You don’t look that much older than me.”

 

Hakuryuu lifted his eyebrows, finally turning his eyes down to meet Judal’s.

 

“We do not refer to your kind as _mortals_ for lack of a better term.” he said. “I suspect I am more than ten times your age, at youngest.”

 

“I’m nineteen. Maybe twenty.”

 

“Ah. I was right then.”

 

He looked back at the pot, now full of various sizes of mushroom, then seemed realize what Judal had said and frowned. Still frowning, he looked back down at the man beside him.

 

“Did you say _maybe_ twenty?”

 

“Yeah. Why?”

 

Hakuryuu’s expression couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to be pointedly confused or slightly irritated and settled somewhere in between.

 

“I apologize but I’ve heard of the more ancient of _my_ kind forgetting their age, but never a mortal.”

 

“Oh. Yeah I guess most people have an easier time of that than me.” Judal waved a hand dismissively, eyes back on the pot. “I don’t actually know when I was born, specifically. So it’s kinda hard keeping track of my age.”

 

“Don’t mortals celebrate their dates of birth rather consecutively?”

 

“Well, yeah, but that’s assuming there’s someone around to know when that date is and actually want to celebrate it.”

 

Before he could think better of it Hakuryuu opened his mouth, only to pause before speaking. The question rested on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill over his lips, but remained there instead. He watched Judal, sitting on his toes and contently observing the growth of fungus in the pot, and realized he didn’t want to ask the question. It was neither his place, nor his business to know.

 

He turned his own gaze back to the plants, now overflowing with vibrantly colored fungus and spindly flowers he knew to be poisonous and he’d had no intention to grow. Without hesitation he sent mold to consume them and destroy their toxicity, though this did little to distract him. The implications of Judal’s words bothered him, but more than that the fact that he hesitated to upset him did.

 

The fungi started to die off, one at a time. Hakuryuu manipulated the pattern for his own entertainment and beside him, Judal leaned forward to watch. They spiraled inwards, descending into the earth beneath them.

 

“When were you born? What season?”

 

The last mushroom deflated back into the dirt and Judal looked up at him, blinking those transfixing crimson eyes like he was coming out of a dream.

 

“Winter.” he answered plainly.

 

Hakuryuu hummed softly under his breath.

 

“As was I.”

 

It was peculiar, he thought. The observation held no value or significant meaning to it, but in making it he felt himself establish yet another connection with his mortal host. He wasn’t sure why he bothered, or why he felt so content to know they had something in common.


	8. Chapter 7

Hakuryuu found himself turning in a slow circle, bare feet on cold concrete as he looked about the barren courtyard he had first landed in. He remember nothing of it, having been unconscious at the time, and he was almost glad. The state of it was depressing.

 

He spared a glance back up at the open window several stories above him. Technically speaking, leaving from a window was effectively the same as crossing through a doorway; he still left the barrier of the threshold either way. The responsible thing to do would have been to walk out of Judal’s door, down the stairs, and out the side door of the building not ten feet to his left.

 

Hakuryuu had jumped out of the window instead.

 

In the days following his oath to Judal, Hakuryuu had come to realize that he was not suited for rest and relaxation. It was all well and good to sit down and read a book when he knew that time tomorrow he would be riding into battle or planning a siege, but trying to occupy himself with no looming responsibilities proved trying. He was sure that once he had been able to entertain himself for days at a time without concern, but that had been decades ago.

 

The _television_ , as Judal had called it, did not agree with him. Human technology in general did not seem to respond well to his kind, and Hakuryuu had learned to keep a three foot distance between himself and anything electronic. There were books, Judal had offered them more than once for him to peruse, but it was difficult to concentrate when his mind was so restless.

 

He couldn’t train with only one arm, never mind the fact his polearm was lost to him forever. (He tried not to dwell on this as it brought up a childish kind of upset he wasn’t accustomed to feeling.) The _Silver Lady_ only required so much attention and he had been forbidden from remodeling any more of the apartment. So Hakuryuu found himself fractious, pacing around the furniture and watching the clock hands until Judal returned.

 

The iron wound in his side had finally begun to close itself properly, his fractured bones had fully repaired, and the stump of his arm had sealed off completely as if it had been amputated for years. In the terms Hakuryuu was accustomed to, he was more or less ready for battle. Had he been back in Sidhe he would be making prosthetics daily, just to last him through his next fight, perfecting them as he went until he found something that lasted slightly longer than a day.

 

Admittedly, while perhaps it was better he was taking his time with producing a new arm, it didn’t make the time pass any more swiftly.

 

Hakuryuu’s frustration had reached its peak that morning, shortly after Judal had left for school. He had gone with his customary farewell, leaving Hakuryuu still picking at his breakfast, if slightly less so than days prior. Judal had taken note of what Hakuryuu would and would not eat without any prompting, and now most of what he provided the fae with was what seemed to be the freshest produce he could find. Though Hakuryuu had asked for no such accommodation, it was touching.

 

There was only so long he could draw breakfast out. He had paced more, which he was concerned was going to start wearing holes in the rug, and finally given up. He had rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window where the _Silver Lady_ was sitting and found himself staring down at the empty courtyard below.

 

He had contemplated the idea that popped into his head for all of a few moments before throwing the window open and lurching out of it. Any excuse to be free of the small apartment for a while; _any_ excuse to use his magic, even just to coast himself safely down through the air.

 

Once upon a time, the courtyard had probably been meant for greater things. Hakuryuu wasn’t sure how human builders went about creating gardens, as fae simply grew them where they stood. However they did it, they clearly weren’t very good at it, if the empty plots of dry soil were any indication.

 

Hakuryuu turned in another slow circle, eyes drifting over his environment without truly seeing. A frown creased his brow.

 

He hadn’t noticed before, but the threshold he had been residing behind wasn’t a terribly strong one. Coming into the courtyard had been a risk, but as it was technically a part of the property he had assumed the threshold would hold. It did; by a very thin thread.

 

It perplexed him. Thresholds were powerful magic, the older and more lived in the abode the more powerful the threshold. A building this size and age _should_ have a threshold far stronger than what he felt.

 

Hakuryuu stopped, frowning up at the window.

 

_Perhaps he hasn’t lived here long._ he considered.

 

Another few seconds were wasted staring up at the window before Hakuryuu’s focus snapped back to the courtyard. The thrill of excitement that had sent him jumping from the window returned as he raised his hand, palm up, and called for the magic in the air.

 

It took a moment for it to respond. The magic in the mortal realm was sluggish from disuse compared to Sidhe, but eager to respond to his call. Once it came close, the magic zipped and sparked through the air like static before a storm. It sent lights bursting behind his eyes and heat swimming through his veins, his body surging with even the hint of _power_.

 

Hakuryuu pressed his will into the magic, sending it outwards around him in the shape he desired. It coated the courtyard, arcing over the gate and curling itself against the walls of the buildings on either side. He embellished the glamour more than necessary, just for the sake of using more magic.

 

From inside, the world seemed the same, but to an outside observer the gate to the courtyard was closed and the inside would be entirely forgettable. Anyone could stop and look through the bars, stare for hours if they wanted and watch everything that went on, but the moment they tried to recall what they saw it would be gone.

 

The glamour, like all of Hakuryuu’s magic, was elegant and refined. It flowed smoothly, causing barely a ripple in the outside world’s awareness.

 

Now free to act as he pleased without being seen, Hakuryuu paced to the back of the courtyard where a bench sat up against a wall. The bench was iron, he could feel its cold sting in the air as he swerved around it, approaching the wall. The remnants of dead ivy clung to the brickwork, brittle enough that even his fingertips caused the dried vine to snap. Hakuryuu winced, as if he could feel the lifeless plant’s pain.

 

His fingers traced down the vine, body following until he was crouched above a crack in the concrete from which the ivy had once emerged. It was not strictly one of the open beds of earth, but the sight of the dead plant was fuel enough.

 

Hakuryuu wormed two of his fingers into the crack until he could feel dirt under his fingernails and breathed in, then out, slow and soft. As he did, the magic pooled in his core flowed out, down his arm and through his fingertips, into the earth and deeper. Deeper, deeper, until it curled around the roots of the plant and sunk inwards.

 

Green shoots began to emerge and reach out, around his fingers, and Hakuryuu guided the ivy up against the wall. As soon as it touched the brick it began to climb. Where it touched the dead parts of itself it began to fill out, turn green and grow, twining with the new plant and crawling higher along the wall.

 

Hakuryuu stepped back and watched, his hand resting against the brick, feeding magic into the ivy until it disappeared against the roof high above.

 

He smiled.

 

“Much better.”

 

He pulled his hand from the brickwork and stepped backwards. The concrete dug into the soles of his feet, but the discomfort didn’t even occur to him as he turned to face the empty courtyard. Around him, the air shivered with magic, the dry earth suddenly warm with the embers of life.

 

He could feel his magic burning in his palms, swirling at his very center, begging to be used. There was so much death in this small space, so much emptiness, and he could so very easily fill it.

 

“Where to begin.” he murmured to himself. “Where to _begin_ …”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Judal had never been terribly intent on going or _getting_ anywhere. If he had somewhere to be at a certain time he generally assumed he would get there, and he usually did. So it came as a surprise to find himself very intent on leaving campus and getting back on the cramped bus (which smelled like butterscotch and gin) that would carry him home.

 

It wasn’t a single instance, he found himself with this urge to _get home_ daily now, ever since he and Hakuryuu had come to something of an agreeable companionship. In context the idea he was, dare he say, _excited_ to go home and see a faerie prince camped out on his couch was both ridiculous and concerning. But in reality, it wasn’t nearly that complicated.

 

For the first time, Judal had someone to go home _to_. It didn’t matter who Hakuryuu was or where he had come from, only that he was _there_.

 

When he walked in the door, it was to the sight of Hakuryuu laid out on the couch, or settled on the windowsill with the _Silver Lady_ , or in the midst of pacing back and forth. The prince would look up immediately and fix him with those impossibly blue eyes and say _“welcome back, Judal”_. It was by no means conventional, but it was the closest thing to _normal_ Judal had ever had.

 

Judal still dreaded the four flights of stairs he had to walk up and the front door still refused to open unless you jiggled the handle the right way, but the apartment building felt more inviting now. When he stopped at crosswalks he bounced on his heels and he walked quickly from the bus stop to his building instead of meandering lazily down the streets like he used to.

 

He was so intent on getting back to his apartment and his inhuman guest that he almost walked clear past the gated courtyard without giving it a second glance. He might have, his brain filled in the space where the courtyard was with the usual wrought iron fence and unremarkable, cracked concrete, but then halted. It was but a split second of a thought, and yet for a moment it felt like his mind had just stumbled over itself, losing focus like a shoddy cable connection.

 

Judal stopped walking, trying to process what had just happened in his head. The half-second image of the dilapidated courtyard was unnaturally fuzzy in his mind, and instinct told him to turn his head and look back. Not too long ago, instinct had also told him to go rescue a faerie prince from bleeding to death in a planter, and look how that was working out.

 

Naturally, Judal spun on his heel to get a proper look at the courtyard.

 

What should have been there was the same open fence and uninspiring alleyway, but instead Judal found himself staring at flourishing foliage almost squirming its way free of the wrought iron. Boughs of trees were reaching through the spaces between the bars, vines had spun their ways all around the fence several times, some blossoming with brightly colored flowers. Bees were buzzing merrily about, apparently bemused but otherwise pleased by the new food source.

 

Judal blinked, then looked up at his building, just to be sure he hadn’t gotten wildly lost somehow and found his way to an urban paradise. The same dull brickwork building loomed over him though, its windows dirty but each kept in to the apartment inhabitant’s liking. The faded brass numbers hung over the front door, there was even still a crack in the door where one of the neighbors had jammed their knee during one of the door’s more ornery days. It was his building, so this was his courtyard, but that was certainly not the way he’d left it that morning.

 

He was reminded of the day he’d come home to find his living room refurnished by his guest. In fact, even without that comparison it wasn’t exactly difficult to figure out who had transformed the courtyard from its previous state of disuse.

 

Judal fit his hand between the low hanging leaves and the snakelike vines, wrapping his fingers around the gate and pushing gingerly inwards. It gave way surprisingly easily, and as he watched several plants untangled themselves from the iron to allow the gate to open. They swayed in the air as he stepped into the courtyard and, once he’d shut the gate again, snaked their way back into place. Some brushed by him as they went, touching his bare skin as if in welcome.

 

Judal turned slowly, casting his eyes over everything all at once and not really drinking any of it in in the process. The courtyard had always seemed like it was too large, despite the cramped space between buildings it occupied. It had been so dead and empty that even the narrow strip of concrete had seemed _too much_ for it. Now there was nowhere for his eyes to settle, every surface crawling with ivy, every corner lit by brightly colored blossoms, the asphalt blanketed in a swath of leaves.

 

It was _magical_. Not because of the static tingle in the air or the sheer nature of what had brought these plants to life, but just because it _was_. In the purest sense, this was nature, swallowing up a corner of urban civilization and reclaiming it for itself. It was as if he had stepped into a wholly different world, and Judal couldn’t stop grinning.

 

“Ah, Judal. You’re back.”

 

Hakuryuu’s voice came from behind him and Judal spun again so he could face the prince. Hakuryuu stood out against the foliage, his dark hair and milky skin a sharp contrast to the lush backdrop. And yet, Judal couldn’t help thinking he looked like he belonged there, tucked away in the shadows of overhanging treetops.

 

The fae offered him one of his small smiles, and his eyes seemed to glitter in the half-light.

 

“Welcome back.”

 

“You,” Judal laughed. “You _did_ all this?”

 

“I did.” Hakuryuu affirmed, stepping out of the shadows. “Though I admit I might have gotten a bit _carried away_ once I got started.”

 

“No! Are you kidding?! This is _amazing_ , Hakuryuu!”

 

The name carried a pleasant thrum of magic through the air, causing the prince to roll his shoulders back and straighten his posture. He watched as his human host turned himself again, looking up at the once dull alley walls. Judal craned his head back, trying to find the end of the ivy and the trees, but laughed once more when he couldn’t seem to.

 

“You like it, then?” Hakuryuu asked.

 

Judal fixed his brilliant crimson eyes on the fae, smiling with the kind of giddy, unbridled joy one could never fake.

 

“I _love_ it!”

 

A burst of pride warmed the fae’s chest and he sucked in an involuntary breath. Judal’s attention had already returned to the newly grown flora, trailing his fingertips over the greenery in fascination. Hakuryuu watched him silently, magic still sparkling just beneath his skin, urging him to use it. He wondered how his host would react if he grew morning glories into his braid, or sent a shower of mulberries falling into his open mouth.

 

It had been a long while since Hakuryuu had bothered to grow something for the sake of _joy_. His creations may be beautiful, but more often than not they were meant to do harm, or be sacrificed in the name of defense. As he watched, a length of spider’s web thin ivy spun around Judal’s fingers and he laughed again, utterly delighted.

 

“I don’t even know what most of these are.” Judal admitted, wiggling his fingers gently so as not to harm the living vine. “Are they all from Sidhe?”

 

“Not all of them.” Hakuryuu said. “There’s plenty of plants that grow in both of the realms. It’s difficult to bring the unique ones from one place to another, so I only bothered with a few.”

 

He ran his fingers along the slip of vine, making it shiver and slowly retreat from Judal’s outstretched hand. His host watched as it retreated towards the wall again, creeping its way up among the mess of other plants clinging to the brick.

 

“Show me?” Judal asked, sounding eager.

 

Hakuryuu smiled.

 

“Of course.”

 

The fae took his host’s wrist in hand and led him along the wall, pointing out the different plants as they walked. Judal listened surprisingly attentively, though his free hand always wandered to reach out for the greenery. More than once they paused so he could run curious fingertips over soft petals or through prickly leaves, his wondrous smile never leaving his lips.

 

Everything seemed to impress him, from the simplest sapling to the most decadent bush of blackberries. Hakuryuu plucked one for him, and Judal snatched several more when he thought he wasn’t looking. The juice made his lips faintly purple, something the prince found very distracting when he was trying to explain where in Sidhe a specific flower had come from.

 

Logically, Judal knew that the courtyard couldn’t possibly have grown in size since the last time he had set foot in it, but it felt as vast as the botanical gardens. Maybe it had something to do with the fae’s odd tendency to misshape space around themselves, he’d read about that during one of his increasing nights spent googling all things Sidhe related. Or maybe it was just that Hakuryuu had crammed so much life into such a small space that now it felt both much smaller and much larger than before.

 

Hakuryuu fell behind Judal, watching as the human wandered amidst the lush plant life with amazement still twinkling in his eyes. The shade of red reminded him of ripe raspberries now, fresh and plump, so convincing he could almost taste their tart sweetness on his tongue. He reached up, tugging lightly at a branch that sent a cascade of petals down over his host.

 

Judal’s laughter sounded even lovelier when it was bouncing around the rejuvenated courtyard. It sparkled in the air, Hakuryuu could feel the emotion as it touched against the magic in the atmosphere, and it make him shiver.

 

“I take it,” he said, stepping out from under the shade of the tree. “That you approve of my changes to your yard?”

 

Judal had affirmed that a hundred times over already at this point, but Hakuryuu couldn’t help the swell of pride when he did so again.

 

“It’s _fantastic_ , I don’t even know where to start!” Judal laughed, brushing petals off himself. He couldn’t see most of them, caught in his hair.

 

“You have plenty of time to start wherever you choose.”

 

Hakuryuu gestured around, a spray of light blue sparks leaving his fingertips as he did. Flowers perked up in response, opening their blossoms wider to display their full range of colors.

 

“This place is no illusion… These will continue to flourish even if I stop attending to them, which I don’t intend to do. Consider this… a gift to you, as thanks.”

 

“Well, thank you, Hakuryuu.”

 

_Thank you_ , his mind latched onto those two words. They were an admission of debt by faerie law, easily twisted into—No. Hakuryuu turned his head so Judal was no longer in his line of sight. He could feel the magic bindings of the oath he’d sworn curling around his instincts, crushing the dark thoughts to pulp.

 

“Kind of makes me wish this place really _was_ just mine.”

 

Judal’s voice cut through Hakuryuu’s brief inner battle, and his words registered a moment later. The fae whipped his head back around, frowning at his host.

 

“What do you mean “really just yours”?”

 

“I mean, the courtyard’s not _mine_.” Judal shrugged. “It belongs to everyone in the building, kinda.”

 

“But it’s… beside _your_ home.”

 

“My apartment, yeah.”

 

He caught sight of Hakuryuu’s expression out of the corner of his eye. One brow quirked.

 

“It’s not _my_ building.” he elaborated. “I just live in it.”

 

“Only the _apartment_ is yours?”

 

“I rent it, yeah. What, do fae not have apartments?”

 

“No, we do, of course we do.” Hakuryuu responded dismissively. “But an apartment is…”

 

Judal stopped picking petals out of the folds of his clothes. Hakuryuu’s expression was pulled into something resembling a scowl, as if he had something bitter resting on his tongue. He rubbed his hand over his mouth for a moment, bringing a faint blush to the corner of his lips.

 

“An _apartment_ ,” he began. “Is a section of a larger building meant for guests, as a smaller version of a home. It is only meant to be lived in briefly, not long term.”

 

“People live in them here.” Judal shrugged. “One guy owns the building as a whole, rents out the apartments to people who want to live in them for a price.”

 

“You _pay_ to live there?”

 

“Well… yeah?”

 

Judal clearly didn’t understand where Hakuryuu’s astonishment was coming from. He blinked at him with a look of bewilderment to contrast the prince’s appalled expression. For a few moments, Hakuryuu couldn’t find words, then he spluttered;

 

“It’s… _miniscule_.”

 

Immediately, Judal’s face pulled into a frown.

 

“I know it’s not the biggest place but you don’t need to say it like that.”

 

“It’s practically a single room with some walls thrown in place to give the illusion of additional space!” Hakuryuu argued, gesturing at the building. “Even if you knocked those down it would only be _just_ livable for a single person.”

 

“You didn’t have a problem with it this morning.”

 

“This morning I wasn’t aware that box was the extent of your living space!”

 

An emotion Hakuryuu couldn’t place flickered over Judal’s expression. His posture was difficult to miss though. Defensive, his fists tensed at his sides, as if he were waiting for a physical blow.

 

“So what if it is?”

 

“So what? So it’s not suitable! Judal, to be confined to a space that small and meant to call _that_ a home is ridiculous! Even double that size would be remarkably beneath you!”

 

In his exasperated fervor, Hakuryuu missed how Judal’s tensed, or the crackle of emotion in the air. If he had been paying more attention to his host he might have caught how white his knuckles were and thought to calm himself. He didn’t, though, too caught up in trying to convince the mortal of the inadequacy of his living arrangements.

 

“Sun and stars if I’d known you were staying there out of anything other than courtesy to me I would have found you better accommodations sooner. How you’ve tolerated it this long is beyond—“

 

“I _KNOW_ IT’S SMALL!”

 

The shout made Hakuryuu’s shoulders jump. A lesser man, a lesser fae, may have jumped back in surprise from the sudden outburst. Hakuryuu had seen enough battle to not be startled by much, but he still gazed at his host in astonishment.

 

Judal’s hands were shaking as he gestured up at the building, and his eyes were glistening with barely contained emotion. A subdued, dark part of Hakuryuu’s thoughts murmured that anger looked _good_ on Judal, and was quickly squashed.

 

“I know it’s _small_ and I know it’s _unimpressive_ and I fucking know it’s about one inspection from being a fucking dump! Yeah, the stairs fucking suck, and the door slams, and I’ve got three rooms and someone’s half-assed try at a kitchen bar but it’s _mine_!”

 

One treacherous tear rolled down Judal’s cheek. He swiftly rubbed it away with the back of his wrist, but once the first one fell, others began to catch on his long lashes and follow suit. The tears were hot and angry, built up over years of thinking things he never said aloud. It hurt to have to defend his home, and it hurt that in many ways Hakuryuu was _right_.

 

“It’s mine!” he repeated. “And I worked fucking hard to make it mine! I carried that shitty furniture up the fucking stairs on my own, and I fixed the stupid windows by myself—“

 

“Judal…”

 

The surprise had faded, and now Hakuryuu was looking at him with a softer expression. Judal sucked in a shaky breath, feeling it rattle around his chest as he swallowed down the urge to sob. He rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, blinking away the burning defiantly.

 

All this emotion had welled up all at once when Hakuryuu said the wrong word, and he knew it was stupid. It was real, but it was stupid. A bunch of shit he had stamped down until he couldn’t feel it anymore and left there so he didn’t have to think about it.

 

“I don’t care how tiny it is, or how crappy,” Judal said, quieter now. “It’s mine.”

 

He fell silent, avoiding the prince’s gaze. Hakuryuu was left to look at his mortal host, how his cheekbones flushed when he cried and how tears clung stubbornly to his long lashes.

 

There was more there than was being said, Hakuryuu could tell that much. Unspoken history hung off every word Judal had said, each heavier than the last, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. But those were not his questions to ask, especially not now.

 

Hakuryuu could think of many ways to brush aside this whole exchange. Glossing things over had been a well-honed skill in the UnSeelie court, especially among the royalty. He almost did, because it was his instinctual reaction to do so. But, of anyone, Judal had proved that he deserved better than that, so Hakuryuu caged his pride and lowered his head.

 

“Judal,” he said as he sank down onto one knee. It felt strange to lower himself beneath another, humbling in a way he was unaccustomed to. Yet once there, the weight of Judal’s gaze bearing down on him was almost comfortable. “I apologize for my behavior, and my words. I spoke without thinking, and regardless of what my intentions were, I clearly hurt you. That was never my aim.”

 

Judal wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at his arms like there was a chill in the air. He sniffed, looking around at the flourishing garden rather than the prince before finally settling his eyes back on him. An uncomfortable knot in his stomach had formed as soon as he knelt, but he ignored it.

 

“Maybe do us both a favor and think before you talk next time.” he said, perhaps a touch harshly.

 

Hakuryuu raised his head enough to meet Judal’s eyes.

 

“I will.” he assured, and the sheer breadth of sincerity in his words was overwhelming.

 

Their gaze held for a few moments before Judal looked away.


	9. Chapter 8

Judal did not miraculously forgive Hakuryuu the moment he apologized. Sure, having a prince on one knee before you was something straight out of a Disney movie, magic garden and all, but that didn’t change the fact that what he had said _hurt_. In his own weird way Hakuryuu had seemed almost concerned, maybe even trying to be helpful, but he’d just come off like an asshole.

 

Standing in the courtyard quickly became awkward, especially when Hakuryuu showed no signs of wanting to get _off_ one knee and stand up like a normal person. Judal mumbled some vague excuse and made his escape through the building’s side door, back up the four flights of stairs to his apartment. He toed his shoes off at the door and vindictively kicked them so they were perfectly placed to be stumbled over by the next person to come inside.

 

Hours later, Hakuryuu made his return to the apartment through the window, completely oblivious to his host’s tiny act of vengeance. Being denied his moment of spiteful satisfaction only soured Judal’s mood further, so he turned on his heel and retreated to his bedroom. He was pretty sure Hakuryuu tried to say something to him, but he just tossed a clipped “goodnight” over his shoulder as he went.

 

He almost turned around when Hakuryuu responded with a thoroughly dejected; “ _Goodnight, Judal_ ”

 

Sleep helped the anger wear off, which left behind a residue of hurt Judal tried to ignore. By the time he was out the door and on his way to classes, it was very obvious that the hurt had absolutely zero intention of being ignored. In fact, it was distractingly apparent throughout his whole day, constantly dragging Hakuryuu’s words back up to the surface of his mind.

 

_“You_ pay _to live there?”_

 

_“How you’ve tolerated it this long is beyond me.”_

 

Rich, privileged, royal bastard. He probably never had to work a day in his life! Well, to be fair, Judal _had_ found him missing an arm and heavily wounded, so he’d probably been to war or something. But that didn’t mean anything! Actually, it probably meant a lot. Judal scowled in a way that made the students near him lean away from him. Why did logic have to keep getting in the way of his internal venting?

 

Really, Judal didn’t _want_ to be angry at Hakuryuu. Up until the day before they’d been on remarkably good terms considering the circumstances of their first meeting, he would even go so far as to call them friends. People always said that when you were in the wrong, you had to swallow your pride and apologize for what you had done. They never really mentioned how to deal with whatever came _after_ that, though.

 

Judal didn’t forgive very many people for things they did, even if they apologized for it. He didn’t _care_ about anyone enough to really put in the energy to sort out his feelings and forgive them for things they did. Most people had a single strike, and apology or not if they hurt him, he just stopped associating with them. Hakuryuu was different though. He lived with him for one thing, but for another, he genuinely _liked_ the prince.

 

Whether he meant to or not Judal found himself making excuses to avoid instigating conversations with Hakuryuu. By the time he realized what he was doing he probably already seemed like he was a lot angrier than he was, but he couldn’t decide how to stop. Shuffling through his emotions and trying to put them in their proper places was a lot more difficult than he had anticipated.

 

He kept finding activities to occupy himself with and errands to run that kept him out of the house so by the time he and Hakuryuu were actually in the same room, there wasn’t much time for them to talk before he had to go to sleep.

 

( Granted this had not stopped him from staying up the entire night with the faerie before, but he tried to convince himself he was being _responsible_ by not doing that again. )

 

There had been a steady accumulation of plant life around his apartment since Hakuryuu had rejuvenated the courtyard. Random containers kept popping up on windowsills and countertops, full of sprigs of this and that which Hakuryuu seemed intent on tending to. For the most part, Judal just gave them a curious look and then shrugged them off. They added a little fresh, lively flair to his cramped apartment, so it wasn’t like he minded them being there.

 

Within a day or two the acquisition of new plants became commonplace, so Judal barely noticed when new ones showed up. He was making dinner when he remembered a bunch of basil he had snagged the week prior for some dish or other that hadn’t happened, and promptly went looking for it. It should have been in the fridge, probably shoved to the back where he’d completely forgotten its existence, but he couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

 

Judal stared at the fridge in bewilderment for a moment. He was _sure_ he didn’t remember throwing it out, and he definitely hadn’t used it. He swept his eyes over the kitchen, like that might answer the odd question of where the hell his basil had up and run off to.

 

Believe it or not, it did. Judal’s eyes landed on a mug perched on the otherwise empty kitchen bar, overflowing with green shoots. He had heard of some people putting cut herbs in cold water to freshen them up a bit, but after picking the mug up he found it full of dirt. The basil, upon closer inspection, was very much alive and securely rooted in its new mug home, like it had been growing there for months.

 

Assuming Hakuryuu had felt somehow obliged to bring his herbs back to life, Judal plucked a few leaves and tossed them into the sauce he was making without much thought.

 

The next morning, Judal walked into the living room and found a tall glass sitting on top of a stack of books he’d left out for Hakuryuu. It was now apparently the home of some lovely white flowers, which grew in little clusters of blossoms with exactly six triangular petals each. They were pretty, but he wasn’t really sure what they were doing there of all places. Seemed precarious, to him.

 

Judal moved them to the windowsill and went on with his morning, completely missing Hakuryuu looking at him from behind a book he was absolutely not reading. The fae’s expression fell when Judal left without mentioning the flowers at all.

 

When he got home the apartment was empty, but the window was open, white flowers gone. In place of a faerie prince there was another glass on the coffee table, this time containing long stems drooping with collections of little blue blossoms. Judal was no flower expert, but even he could recognize bluebells when he saw them. He couldn’t remember them being in the courtyard though. A new addition?

 

He spared a moment to admire them, touching the soft petals with his fingertips and smiling as the flowers tickled his skin. If his backpack hadn’t been digging a dent into his shoulder, he probably would have sat there admiring them a little longer. However homework beckoned him with its unfairly complex hands made out of mostly shit he didn’t actually care about.

 

The bluebells had moved to the kitchen counter by the time he emerged hours later to make dinner. Mentally exhausted, the flowers were a nice distraction while he worked on compiling a somewhat coherent meal. At one point, he reached out to touch them again, but caught sight of Hakuryuu’s eyes on him from the couch.

 

The prince looked away, but not before Judal had begun retracting his hand. Bluebells were probably delicate, or they weren’t actually bluebells, or maybe Hakuryuu just didn’t want him touching his flowers. He didn’t know. ( Or maybe Hakuryuu was just _looking at him_ , his common sense said in an exasperated voice. )

 

At this point Judal’s lack of communication had less to do with any residual anger he may have and a lot more to do with not actually being sure how to pick conversation back up again. Every time Judal talked himself into it, Hakuryuu would either be out in the courtyard, reading a book, or tending to the _Silver Lady_ with an unreadable expression. Apparently his expressiveness only extended so far as when he was actually interacting with someone, because now he was as impassive as a wall of ice.

 

When he looked for the cup of bluebells the next morning, Judal found a vase overflowing with vibrantly colored flowers instead. Now, he didn’t remember ever owning a vase, especially not a pretty one made of crystal, but there it was smack in the middle of his counter. It was impossible to miss; there had been absolutely no attempt to put it or its contents any form of _out of the way_.

 

Previously he had assumed that the flowers were all more pet projects Hakuryuu was working on to keep himself entertained during the day, but this was different. There were sunnier, more convenient places for a bouquet than right there on the counter. It was hard to find any kind of explanation for why the flowers had to be _right_ where Judal usually made his morning tea other than that they were meant for _him_.

 

This put the other small bouquets in perspective. In retrospect, they had _all_ probably been for him.

 

Judal’s immediate instinct was to hide his face before the telltale flush of embarrassment reached his cheeks, and the closest thing in which to hide it was the flowers. So there he was standing in his kitchen, when he was supposed to be caffeinating himself before class, face first in soft petals. They smelled marvelous, though.

 

It took a moment or two to collect himself before he pulled his face out of the bouquet and actually looked at it. The arrangement was beautiful, boasting two separate kinds of blossoms all in varying shades of deep crimson and soft rosy pink. Alive, too, not cut and dumped in water like most apology bouquets. ( Judal didn’t think Hakuryuu could stomach the sight of a cut flower, let alone actually putting one on display. )

 

Though, speaking of apology bouquets, Judal couldn’t help thinking that the prince’s choice of flowers was kind of eclectic. All of them had been beautiful, but none of them screamed with desperation like the kind sold on the street corners to husbands to take home and grovel with. They had all been very specific.

 

On his way to class Judal remembered something about there being an unspoken language to flowers. He spent the entire bus ride staring out the window wondering what Hakuryuu was trying to say.

 

When he got home, there was a pot of hyacinths right inside the door, just out of reach of being tripped over by an unsuspecting college student. Judal blinked down at the bright purple flowers for a few seconds before a laugh bubbled its way from between his lips. Apparently, Hakuryuu had given up on vague attempts at subtlety.  

 

This time, when he picked the potted flowers up, he buried his face among the blossoms intentionally. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and savoring the soft scent that tickled his nose. It was just strong enough to remind him of fresh, open fields full of endless amounts of flowers, swaying lightly in the breeze. He released a sigh of contentment and opened his eyes again.

 

After glancing around, Judal found that he was alone in his apartment for the moment. One of his two windows was open again, which meant that Hakuryuu had once more taken the quickest route down to the courtyard, perhaps to give him more space. The bouquet from that morning was still sitting on the kitchen counter, looking slightly withered from lack of attention. Judal relocated both the potted hyacinth and the flowers from that morning to the coffee table, arranging them neatly side by side.

 

It felt somewhat off balance though, and after quickly scouring his apartment he returned with a tangle of vines growing out of a bowl covered in bunches of little yellow berries. He wasn’t actually sure what the plant in the bowl was, or if he should be moving it. It was pretty to look at, though, and it offset the purple and reds nicely when he nestled it between the two flowers.

 

Judal stood up straight to admire his handiwork, hands on hips. He couldn’t help a private snigger of amusement. Look at him, with an actual centerpiece on his coffee table. Almost like a civilized person! Except that he was pretty sure most centerpieces couldn’t kill people, and if Hakuryuu wanted to, every single plant could.

 

He tilted his head, admiring the arrangement. It felt good to think of them as _his_ flowers. Hakuryuu had taken the time and effort to grow those flowers for no other reason than to present them to him. The courtyard had been meant for him too, but that was something he had to share. He didn’t need to share the flowers with anyone, they could just be his.

 

When was the last time someone had given him a personalized gift? Meant _just_ for him? Not ever, that came to mind.

 

Had the prince been in the room, any allusions he had about Judal still being angry with him would have been quickly dashed. Judal was pretty sure he would be gushing about how much he liked the flowers, and everything else that came to mind after that. He considered waiting for him on the couch, but in the interest of not immediately talking his ear off like an overly excited child after almost a week of silence, decided against it.

 

Judal was still smiling when he rummaged through his drawers for a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable shirt to change into. The prospect of talking to Hakuryuu again made him almost giddy, even though he was the one who had instigated their silence to begin with. They could actually eat dinner together, instead of him just awkwardly cooking for two and leaving Hakuryuu’s portion on a plate!

 

It felt a little absurd to be so excited over something that simplistic, enough that Judal laughed to himself as he pushed open the door to the bathroom. Inside, it smelled fresher than he remembered, and he stopped where he stood once the lights were on.

 

The bath had already been drawn almost to its fullest, steam rising from the water and filling the small room with a pleasant smelling haze. How the steam managed to escape was a mystery, because the surface of the water was blanketed in a sheet of delicate rose petals.  He could only tell there was water beneath them because every now and then the surface would sway as another petal drifted down into it.

 

Judal blinked, looked up at the ceiling, and gasped.

 

He hadn’t noticed, too preoccupied with the petal filled tub, that there were thorn covered vines growing up along each corner of the room. They converged inward on the ceiling, stems curving into an elaborate mosaic of thorns, the center flourishing into enormous roses. Each rose was nestled close together so they fit just so above the bathtub. Now and then, a shiver would pass through the lacework of vines and shake the roses just enough that a few more petals would dislodge themselves.

 

Judal stood there in the doorway to the bathroom gaping at the ceiling. He officially _couldn’t_ be angry at Hakuryuu anymore. How can you be angry at a man who literally grows you a bath full of rose petals as an apology?

 

After a few moments standing there in awe, he gathered himself enough to step inside. He leaned over the tub and breathed in, letting the steam fill his lungs with the scent of soaked rose petals. It muddied his thoughts just enough that his shoulders began to relax, and the outside world faded around the edges. Actually getting into the bath seemed almost criminal, but he couldn’t just let the water get cold, could he?

 

When he slipped into the water it was just the right kind of hot, enough to sear his skin and make goosebumps spread from his toes up to his neck. Judal shivered, sliding down into the waiting bath and groaning as the hot water swallowed him. Petals got tangled into his long hair almost immediately, so that by the time he was comfortable it was hard to tell where his hair ended and the water began.

 

It was an incredibly decadent feeling, the hot water, the kiss of the petals on his bare skin, the smell of roses thick in the air. He had never felt so luxurious before. The longer he laid there, the more he melted into a content lull and allowed the outside world to fade from his mind completely. With his eyes closed, he was no longer in a tiny bathroom with cracked tile walls, he was far, far away.

 

And when he opened his eyes, the mural of roses was right above him, painting strokes of color over the dull ceiling and raining soft kisses down on him. A petal drifted down, down, down, until it landed on his nose. Judal smiled and sunk lower in the water.

 

He didn’t leave the bath for a long time; not until his skin had starting getting wrinkled and the water was beginning to chill. Rose petals stuck to his skin when he stepped out of the water, and he had a funny feeling he’d be picking them out of his hair for the rest of the night. Rather than drain the tub, he let the water stand, unsure what to do with the excess petals.

 

Judal gave the arrangement of roses on the ceiling one last look before leaving the bathroom. They shook again, sending a soft rain of red and gold down onto the cool water.

 

Hakuryuu was sitting on the couch when he emerged from the bathroom after nearly two hours soaking in the rose bath. He didn’t make any indication of noticing Judal’s presence, but his back straightened a fraction when he heard his footsteps. Judal smiled to himself, took a few more steps around the couch, and plopped down next to the fae.

 

A moment of silence ticked by in which Hakuryuu pretended to still be interested in the rug.

 

“…You liked the flowers, then?” he asked, finally, turning his head just enough he could look at Judal.

 

“I did.” Judal agreed, smile tugging at his mouth. “What happened to the other ones?”

 

“I assumed you didn’t approve of them when you didn’t say anything, so I returned them to the earth.”

 

“I liked them.”

 

“Oh, I see.”

 

“I like all the stuff you’ve grown.”

 

“Even what I grew in the yard?”

 

Judal laughed, ducking his head for a moment before looking Hakuryuu in the eye. The prince was smiling at him again, and it was a lovely sight after almost a week without it.

 

“ _Especially_ all the stuff you grew in the yard.” he confirmed.

 

The air between them cleared as quickly as it had been fogged. Once they started smiling, neither of them seemed to want to stop. They shared a sheepish laugh, as if only just realizing how ridiculous they’d been over the past few days, and how much easier it was to be talking again.

 

“Where I come from,” Hakuryuu said, once they had quieted down again. “A man like you would be awarded far more than just this, Judal.”

 

Judal drew his legs up onto the couch, holding his crossed ankles. His knee rested over Hakuryuu’s thigh, but the prince made no sign of wanting to move it. Instead, he watched as Judal tilted his head, eyes lazily tracing over his bemused smile.

 

“And what kind of man am I?” Judal asked.

 

“A kind man. An honest one, too. Mortal stories, they always paint my kind as these little beings full of goodness and virtue, but really those are just the things we desperately crave. We lack them, in many respects, and those who can display even a fraction of that kind of good nature are held in high regard.”

 

Hakuryuu’s eyes never wavered when he spoke. It was impossible to break his gaze, his contrasting irises each sparkling with some emotion Judal couldn’t think to name. He chuckled, if only as an excuse to break his gaze.

 

The intensity of it became overwhelming sometimes, especially when he had been without it so long.

 

“Wow. I mean, I’ve been called a lot of things but… I don’t think I’m all that kind. Honest, yeah, but mostly cause who’s got the energy to lie?”

 

Judal gave the prince one of his lopsided grins.

 

“I don’t know if I’m all that _good natured_ , Hakuryuu. Think I’ve just got a bad habit of rescuing princes in distress.”

 

“And in Sidhe, that would be worth more than you know.”

 

His grin took on a mischievous curve at the corners that made Hakuryuu arch one fine brow.

 

“Think it could get me a castle?”

 

“Oh, at least _ten_.”

 

Judal’s laugh came out at full volume this time, bouncing merrily around the apartment. His shoulders shook as he dissolved into giggles, tilting over enough that his side knocked into Hakuryuu’s. He was a little surprised when the fae didn’t pull away; instead he leaned into him so he could feel his weight against his shoulder.

 

The laughter petered out after a little while and Judal let his head fall against Hakuryuu’s, temple to temple.

 

“I don’t need any castles, I like it here. It doesn’t look like much, and it’s barely big enough for one of us, you’re right about that… But I like it anyway.”

 

Hakuryuu sighed through his nose, his eyes drifting half shut as he leaned into Judal again. Their weight against each other was warm and solid. Real, and impossible to ignore.

 

“After that night,” he said. “I thought more about what I’d said, and I realized I was wrong. Even if I think you deserve better, I don’t dislike it here.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Of course not. _You_ are here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this chapter was inspired by my darling friend **oiyukis** , who has consistently put up with my rambling about this fic during its creation. So this chapter is for her~
> 
> In order, the flowers Hakuryuu gifted to Judal and what they mean;
> 
> **Star of Bethlehem** : This flower stands for _reconciliation_ and _a desire to reconcile_ , which I think speaks for itself.  
>  **Bluebell** : This flower symbolizes _humility_. Hakuryuu is basically humbling himself.  
>  **Geranium** : Meaning _stupidity_ or _folly_. He's calling himself an idiot.  
>  **Gladioli** : _Give me a break_ and _I'm really sincere_. Hakuryuu just really wants to go back to talking to Judal at this point, he's not sure what else he can do to apologize. ( Gladioli is also the flower of gladiators. )  
>  **Hyacinth** : _I am sorry, please forgive me, Sorrow_. One more try at an apology.  
>  **Roses** : I mean, I think roses kind of speak for themselves. The inclusion of these flowers was mainly for the aesthetic of a rose bath, and the slight romantic tilt of the implication.
> 
> The basil had no specific meaning, Hakuryuu was just trying to do something nice to make up for being a prick.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a lovely holiday! Happy whatever you celebrate, dear readers~ 
> 
> Finally we've begun to move into the deeper points of the story's plot. There's still plenty of Judal and Hakuryuu's shenanigans to come, don't worry! But this is about where we begin to delve towards more serious things. 
> 
> On request via Tumblr I did some [Serendipity fanart](http://chiekahakuen.tumblr.com/post/154899297205/requests-from-oiyukis-and-maumauxmau-good) from the last chapter! I hope everyone enjoys!

Monday mornings were always substantially more lax than any other morning of the week in Judal’s apartment. Nothing special happened on Monday mornings, in fact that was sort of the point; nothing much happened on Monday _at all_. Because as Judal put it; who the hell would force themselves to do anything on a Monday?

 

In the past this meant that Judal started his day at least an hour or two late, sometimes longer if he was really tired. He would roll out of bed and shuffle around his apartment until he felt functional enough to make himself a meal, flop down in front of the television for a few hours, and then do whatever else he wanted until it was time to go to sleep. If he wanted to stay up late, he could, or he could fall into bed early and get a blissful ten hours of sleep before his first class on Tuesday.

 

Lately, Mondays had been all about big breakfasts and an excess of time in Hakuryuu’s company. They had a routine; they would both wake up whenever they wanted, though usually Hakuryuu was up before Judal, and wait for the other to be awake to start doing anything besides lazing about. Once Judal was up, he would pad his way out into the living room and settle himself down next to Hakuryuu for a half hour or so after brewing himself a cup of tea.

 

Hakuryuu kept him company, sometimes in silence or with light conversation until Judal was awake enough to operate a stove. ( Sometimes Judal dozed off again, head on Hakuryuu’s shoulder, and the prince would let him snooze a little while. ) Usually, breakfast was the prince’s choice, since it was the day Judal had the most time to cook. Breakfast foods were standard, but one week it had been takeout at ten AM from a mildly confused looking delivery boy. This had been the week Judal had introduced his guest to the concept of pizza.

 

On this Monday, Hakuryuu had requested pancakes. Judal made an excessively large batch as an excuse to use as many of the mixed berries sitting in his fridge as possible. There were raspberries and blackberries, blueberries and mulberries, all of them plucked fresh just two days before from the courtyard below. Hakuryuu kept sneaking into the kitchen to snatch the berries before they made it to the batter, and Judal had to threaten him with his spatula more than once.

 

The morning was cheerful and easy, and outside the apartment walls the day was appropriately beautiful. Once the pancakes were done they loaded up several plates and migrated from the kitchen and out the front door. Hakuryuu almost went for the window, as he was want to do these days, but Judal made a fuss about jumping out of windows with a plate of pancakes, so he followed him down the stairs instead.

 

The courtyard was blissfully empty when they got there, and they settled onto the warm concrete in between two planters to eat. Butter and honey were passed back and forth between them as they stuffed themselves with berry pancakes, and their tongues were purple by the time they were done.

 

Satisfied and full of that lazy post-meal contentment, they each settled themselves into their preferred spots in the courtyard. Judal wound up cross legged on the bench by the door, nursing his mug of tea, while Hakuryuu wandered between the planters examining his garden.

 

“So I was thinking,” Judal said. “About those flowers you gave me. Those weren’t part of the whole debt repayment thing, right?”

 

Hakuryuu glanced over his shoulder at his host, hand still feeling along a twisted branch on a young sapling.

 

“No, those were just an apology.” he replied, frowning and looking back at the plant.

 

“That’s what I figured.”

 

There was a brief pause during which Hakuryuu seemed to find something amiss with the sapling. He muttered to himself before pinching the branch between two fingers and feeding magic into it. Judal watched as it slowly began to straighten out and regain some of its color before speaking again.

 

“I’ve got an idea to run by you.”

 

“Oh? Concerning what?”

 

“About you repaying me and stuff. You made an oath, so you _have_ to do it, right?”

 

“I do.” Satisfied, he moved on to the next plant. “Is something troubling you?”

 

Judal shook his head, even though Hakuryuu’s back was to him. He rested his half-full mug on his crossed ankles, watching the prince as he tangled his fingers fearlessly into a collection of thorn covered vines.

 

“Not really troubling me, no.” he said. “But we’ve never really talked about what any of that even means, you know? The debt and oath and stuff. And, like, you’ve already _done_ a ton of stuff for me but you said none of that counts.”

 

“You’re referring to…?”

 

“Like, you totally redid my living room, totally revamped the courtyard, _and_ you gave me a bunch of really pretty flowers and a literal rose bath! Plus, you tolerate living with me.”

 

Hakuryuu shot Judal a half-smile over his shoulder that didn’t match the stern crease in his brow.

 

“I do not _tolerate_ you, Judal.”

 

“Yeah, well, my _point_ is that it’s kind of hard to tell when you’re doing things for the sake of repaying me and when you’re just doing them _because_.”

 

“Who says I’m not doing both?”

 

“How the hell does _that_ work?!” Judal laughed.

 

“Take the flowers for example,” the prince said, raising his voice as he circled around to the other side of the planter. “I grew them as repayment not for my debt, but for upsetting you as much as I did. The furniture was the same; payment for my spilled blood.”

 

“But not for the main debt you swore an oath over.”

 

“No.”

 

“Well then we could go on like this forever!”

 

Hakuryuu tilted his body so he could look at Judal from between the leaves, quirking an eyebrow at him. His host was smiling and looking somewhat bemused, gesturing with one hand as he spoke.

 

 “As long as we’re around each other, we’re gonna keep ending up in these situations where we feel like we owe each other! And then we’ll do something to pay the other back for it, but never get around to the main thing.”

 

“I suppose that’s true.”

 

Hakuryuu paused, deliberating. Since their disagreement, Hakuryuu had been trying to catch himself before he said anything that may come off as insensitive. Things he took for granted, by being a prince or a fae, had to be examined before they were just brushed aside. Once he had organized his thoughts in a satisfactory manner, he turned to Judal.

 

“In my eyes,” he began. “Those things don’t even begin to come close to the magnitude of the debt I owe you. They just don’t count, as they are not even on a similar scale. And technically, by our laws that is correct; though many of the specifics of debt and repayment are left up to the perspective of the fae involved.”

 

“So what _does_ count as repaying your debt?” Judal queried. “In fact, what are you even in debt _for_ , really?”

 

Hakuryuu smiled to himself. Judal was, once again, asking questions that most mortals would completely overlook. He still wasn’t sure if his host was just clever, or if he’d read through so much faerie lore since his arrival that he had a checklist in his head. Either way, it made him proud to hear Judal ducking around the usual loopholes with ease.

 

A little bit of that pride laced its way into his magic and shimmered from his fingertips, leaving a new sheet of moss in the wake of his retreating hand.

 

Since the conversation was growing more involved, he pulled himself away from the planter and settled on the concrete in front of the bench, mirroring Judal’s cross-legged position. Judal leaned over so his elbows rested on his calves, closer to the fae.

 

“A debt is more of a concept than it is a tangible thing,” Hakuryuu began. “To my kind at least, it is the idea that you carry a burden of responsibility for someone else’s actions on your behalf. The more excessive the action, the more burdensome the debt.”

 

“So me dragging you up four flights of stairs and onto a shitty couch is a pretty big debt?”

 

The prince rolled his eyes as his host sniggered, tossing him an expression of mixed exasperation and amusement.

 

“You did more than just drag me up some stairs, Judal.”

 

“Alright, so I picked you up out of a planter too. You’re a lot heavier than you look, you know that?”

 

“It’s more complex than that.” Hakuryuu said, brushing aside the teasing quip. “You collected my possessions for me and made sure they weren’t damaged, ensured my safety while I recovered, and most importantly you saved my life. I would have died without your help, Judal.”

 

A somber silence fell between them as Hakuryuu finished. The events of the day they met were something they had neglected to talk about at any length for a whole host of reasons. It was easier, in a way, to try and forget that there was more to their relationship than two people who lived together.

 

Sooner or later the unspoken questions would need to be addressed. They couldn’t go on pretending that everything was going to continue as it was forever, as much as they wanted to. Reality would catch up to them eventually.

 

“That being said,” Hakuryuu continued once the silence had grown too heavy to bear. “What I owe you far surpasses any amount of furniture or flowers I could produce.”

 

“Well, we’ve got to find _some_ way to quantify it, or you’re going to be in my debt forever.”

 

Judal took a long drink from his mug of tea, frowning over its rim at nothing in particular. His eyes were distant, mind clearly elsewhere as he mulled things over. Hakuryuu rested his chin on his knuckles, allowing his own mind to wander as the silence carried on.

 

Their second bout of silence lasted longer than the first, and this time it was Judal who broke it.

 

“How about we do things in threes?”

 

Hakuryuu straightened his back, cocking an eyebrow at his host.

 

“The fae like threes, right?”

 

“We do. It’s something of a sacred number, for a great many reasons.”

 

“Alright, well,” Judal went on, resting his mug on his ankle again. “You said that your debt comes from me saving your life, keeping your possessions safe, and making sure you had somewhere to be while you got better, right? That’s three things. So instead of one _big_ debt, how about you owe me three littler ones?”

 

Hakuryuu considered this, rubbing his fingers over his mouth.

 

“Taking a debt in pieces isn’t unheard of.” he agreed thoughtfully. “Though it remains that my perception of the debt’s magnitude and yours seems to vastly differ.”

 

“So we find a way to give it like, an approximation? Like one third is worth a living room remodel?”

 

“Nice try, but no.”

 

“Hey, I’m trying to help you out here!” Judal’s indignant expression lasted all of a few moments before he relaxed into a smile again. “But I get it. Debt has more to do with the person in debt than the person who they’re in debt to for fae. What do _you_ think’ll work, Hakuryuu?”

 

He didn’t need to puzzle over the answer long. It was staring him in the face the second he stopped to consider it, as old and clichéd as it was. Nothing became old and clichéd by being ineffective, though.

 

“Wishes.”

 

“Seriously?” his host blinked. “ _Wishes?_ Isn’t that kind of…?”

 

“It’s been done before, yes, but it makes sense. This way, the extent of things is up to you, not me. So long as what you wish falls within my power, I can fulfill it.”

 

“Alright but can we not call them _wishes_? I feel like Cinderella or some shit.”

 

“Cinderella? How—Never mind, I feel as though we’ve heard two very different versions of that story. How does requests sound?”

 

“Requests is better.” Judal turned his mug in his hands. “So… Three requests. I get to ask for anything I want, and you’ll give it to me if you can.”

 

“That is correct.”

 

“Well _anything_ is kind of broad don’t you think? If I can ask for _anything_ and it’ll absolve the debt then I could ask you to pass the salt three times and that would be that.”

 

Hakuryuu chuckled through his nose. There he went again, catching a loophole that any fae would be happy to leap through.

 

“It’s not quite that simple.” he reassured, which was not entirely the truth, nor entirely a lie. It _could_ be that simple, if he wanted it to be; he just didn’t. “Come here, Judal.”

 

Judal obliged him without complaint, sliding down from the bench without standing and plopping himself onto the concrete. He set his mug aside, scooting himself forward so his knees were barely an inch from the prince’s and settled there curiously.

 

“I am going to make an addendum to my oath,” Hakuryuu said. “It _will_ feel as though I am using my magic on you. I just want you to be aware of that.”

 

“Got it.”

 

“Ready?”

 

Judal nodded.

 

Hakuryuu drew in a breath, quieting his thoughts and drawing his concentration inward to find the specific magic that made up his oath to Judal. He filtered through the vortex of pure energy within himself, seeking blindly for something he would know only when he found it. His senses brushed something almost tangible, a coil of magic braided into a thick rope around his very being that tethered him to his host.

 

With another breath, he took hold of the magic and collected his thoughts, carefully selecting the words he would use to alter his bond. It squirmed angrily within him, displeased by his attempt to change its current state.

 

“As I am bound to you by oath, _Judal_ ,” the prince began. “I offer you this resolution to my debt; three requests, freely given, through which I will neither hinder nor harm you in any way. Would you accept this recompense, or has my offer displeased you o host of mine?”

 

The magic in the courtyard always tingled along the back of Judal’s neck, but now it was thick enough in the air to send shivers cascading down his spine. He could feel it again, Hakuryuu’s voice sinking into his skin and sliding into his veins, his own name surrendering to the prince’s lull. When he met his eyes, Hakuryuu’s gaze was a storm of blue sparks and frozen winds Judal could almost feel pressing frostbite kisses to his cheeks.

 

It wasn’t frightening like the first time, though. He lost none of the control he had over himself. In fact it was almost as though his senses sharpened at specific points, noticing the pulsing heat of the sun and the way grass smelled on the breeze. He exhaled slowly before he answered.

 

“I am not displeased, _Hakuryuu_.” Magic flitted off his tongue, sparkling in the air bright enough he almost thought he saw it. “I will make three requests of you, as compensation for the debt you owe me.”

 

Hakuryuu smiled at him, which was comforting and unnerving in the same breath. There was an unusual tilt to his lips, an unnatural curve at the edges that almost made Judal want to squirm.

 

“For each request, you will need to call on me.” Hakuryuu went on. “And ask for repayment for the debt I owe.”

 

“How should I call for you?”

 

“With my name, of course.”

 

Losing himself in Hakuryuu’s eyes was the easiest thing Judal had ever done. He was far away, in a plane of cool white and snowflakes that covered him in a thin frost. He was so far away he almost missed his own thoughts as they knocked against his skull, and barely caught the tail end of the one that made him start.

 

Judal blinked out of his haze, suddenly realizing the air around him was charged thick with magic so dense he could taste it.

 

“Wait—Your name?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But, isn’t your name…?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Judal stared at Hakuryuu, whose expression bore the same almost unnatural smile as before. He wanted to ask if he was sure, if that was absolutely a good idea. Weren’t faerie names powerful? A way through which one could control them? _Sacred?_ Was Hakuryuu really trusting him with something as important as that?

 

He was. Judal’s heart was beating somewhere around his throat, but he nodded anyway.

 

“When you call for me, call upon _Hakuryuu Ren_ , _Prince of the UnSeelie Court_ , _Son of the Great King Hakutoku_ , _heir to his throne_.”

 

Describing the effect of Hakuryuu’s full name when spoken aloud would be like attempting to describe a dream after you’ve just woken up. No matter how vividly you can see the colors in your mind, recall the sensations of walking in that dreamscape, there’s no words to verbalize it. You have to experience it, and you feel lucky if you do.

 

He neither raised nor lowered his voice, but around them the whole world seemed to fall completely silent so only his words rang out. Judal felt cold down to his bones, but in a way so intense that cold became hot and his bones were almost melting beneath his skin. When he breathed, the air frosted before his eyes, vapor coiling into snakelike bodies that he could just make out…

 

Judal sucked the breath back in, serpentine vapor and all, and swallowed it down. He could feel the magic writhing in this throat as he forced it down, squirming along his insides until it disappeared within him. When he next exhaled, the sounds of the city around them came with his breath.

 

They blinked, the intensity of their locked gazes snapping like a thin sheet of ice. Judal breathed in and out a few times and Hakuryuu exhaled one long, slow breath. Around them the magic in the air began to settle, from electric to a familiar gentle buzz.

 

“…Hey Hakuryuu?”

 

He raised his head.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You want some tea?” Judal tilted his mug. “I’m all out.”

 

The prince smiled.

 

“I’d like that. Do you want company while it steeps?”

 

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : Body Horror

The stars in Sidhe were not the same stars that existed in the mortal realm, according to Hakuryuu. They were dimmed, harder to identify and in entirely incorrect locations if they weren’t missing from the sky altogether. Judal knew this because over the last few nights he had sat in the courtyard with one increasingly irate faerie prince who had repeated these sentiments ad nauseam.

 

As much as the state of the stars interested Judal, he was generally too tired by the time Hakuryuu was done peering up at the sky to ask for any clarification. He’d tried questioning his guest the first night they had spent looking to the stars, but Hakuryuu had hushed him so he could concentrate. If that hadn’t encouraged Judal’s silence, his increasingly foul mood during their stargazing sessions did.

 

It took almost four nights for Hakuryuu to find whatever he was looking for. Judal was practically nodding off on the bench where he’d made a habit of settling himself by that point, so he completely glossed over whatever explanation Hakuryuu gave him.

 

The next day, after he returned from class, they moved the _Silver Lady_ down to the courtyard. Judal had to help with this because by now the _Lady_ was no longer living in a small pot on the windowsill. It had moved from there to the kitchen bar, and from the kitchen bar to a corner, each move corresponding to a larger pot size. Hakuryuu could no longer lift it with one arm, so it was left to Judal to carry it down the stairs and out the side door with the prince’s guidance.

 

He still almost fell down the stairs twice, but they both decided not to mention that.

 

Hakuryuu had cleared one of the plots, leaving it conspicuously empty compared to the ones on either side of it. The dirt inside the plot was no longer dry or cracked, and now held a strong, fresh scent to it. Judal could only guess that all the plants that had once occupied the space had been rotted down to act as fertilizer for the _Silver Lady_ , which Hakuryuu was now beginning to transplant into the empty space. Judal stood back to observe.

 

“So…” he said after almost ten minutes of silence. “Exactly what did this have to do with fucked up stars again?”

 

As he watched, the _Silver Lady’s_ roots lifted from the pot and snaked their way towards the new plot of earth. They burrowed into the earth one at a time, painstakingly worming their way down before lifting the tree a fraction of an inch further from its pot. Hakuryuu’s hand rested on the trunk, steadying his creation while channeling his will into it.

 

“You know, I said there was no need for you to stay up with me, Judal.” Hakuryuu sighed, giving his host a look somewhere between exasperation and worry.

 

“But then who would you bitch to about the sky being messed up?”

 

“The mulberry tree.”

 

“Excuse me, I’m _way_ better company than the mulberry tree. He totally gossips with the morning glories.”

 

A faint air of concern remained in Hakuryuu’s expression even as he smiled.

 

“Be that as it may, I will do my best not to keep you up so late in the future.” he pointedly ignored Judal rolling his eyes. “To answer your question though, this does not have to do with the stars as much as the moon.”

 

Even sagging under the weight of lack of sleep, Judal’s mind still managed to make rapid fire connections to obscure knowledge when it was mentioned. He tilted his head, watching the _Silver Lady_ as it balanced precariously halfway between soil and pot.

 

“Magic’s affected by the moon, right?” he asked curiously. “You’re waiting for a specific part of the cycle?”

 

“That’s correct. The full moon is when magic is at its peak, and considering where we are and the importance of this, it’s best I do it when I am at my strongest.”

 

Judal scrunched up his face, trying to visualize his calendar in his mind. The moon cycle was marked in the corner of certain dates, and the full moon was….

 

“Isn’t the full moon like…” his brow furrowed. “ _Tonight_?”

 

“According to _your_ sky, perhaps.” Hakuryuu scoffed.

 

“Oh, what, our _moon_ is wrong now?”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“That seems kind of unlikely.” Judal said doubtfully.

 

“I have studied the skies longer than you have been alive Judal, I know what the moon is supposed to be behaving like.”

 

“Are you sure it’s not just different here?”

 

Hakuryuu turned to glower at him, taking his eyes off his task. His displeasure was uncomfortably palpable in the air and Judal had to do his best not to squirm under the feeling of it. He raised his shoulders in a shrug, hoping to brush off some of the prince’s annoyance.

 

“I’m serious!” he defended. “This is important, so are you _totally_ sure our moon is off? It’ll be a big deal if you mess this up, right?”

 

For a few moments Hakuryuu continued to glare at him, but then his expression seemed to forcibly relax. Judal was just trying to help, Hakuryuu had to tell himself, even if he didn’t really know what he was talking about.

 

“I am sure.” the prince reassured, turning his eyes back to the _Lady_. It had moved fully to the plot, its roots now digging themselves deeper beneath the dirt. “Because of our magic, fae have a strong connection to the moon. We can feel its cycles as much as see them. Between what I feel and what I saw in the sky, I can tell that while the moon appears full in your sky it is not _truly_ so.”

 

“So even if I look up tonight and see a full moon, according to magic and stuff, I’m not actually seeing a full moon?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“When’s the real full moon, then?”

 

“If I’m correct, and I believe I am, it should be in two days’ time.”

 

Judal stepped up to Hakuryuu’s shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest as he settled his weight onto one leg. The _Silver Lady_ had mostly settled by now, secured into the earth by its roots and standing proudly on its own. Hakuryuu still fed magic into its trunk, causing its pale leaves to shiver and shift.

 

“So in two days…” Judal murmured.

 

“…I will be able to replace my arm, yes.”

 

They fell silent, both gazing at the tree in front of them. It looked out of place against its dreary brickwork backdrop, unnaturally white and far too pure for the cityscape. Without Hakuryuu’s influence, it would not even be capable of existing outside of Sidhe, and it looked just as misplaced as it truly was.

 

Judal couldn’t help looking at the tree with some air of finality. The task of growing a living organism strong enough to become a substitute limb had seemed far more complicated in the beginning than it did now. Hakuryuu could snap his fingers and grow a forest if he wanted, and even if the special care the _Lady_ had taken, it had still only been a matter of weeks.

 

And now it stood there, almost fully matured. It was fascinating, and awe-inspiring, but the longer Judal stared at it the more it began to dredge up something else in him. A thought he’d been trying not to dwell on. If he stamped it down again he could ignore the sinking feeling in his gut for at least another two days, but that seemed a fruitless venture at this point.

 

“So…” Judal forced out, ignoring the nerves squirming uncomfortably inside his ribs. “Once you have your arm… Are you going back to Sidhe?”

 

It didn’t take a genius to realize that wherever Hakuryuu had come from was not a wholly pleasant place to return to, but he was the duty-bound type. Judal expected a short, if solemn, answer. He didn’t doubt that Hakuryuu was itching for a chance to escape the cramped apartment and the mortal realm altogether, and as much as it was going to hurt to know he wanted to leave, Judal understood.

 

Yet, rather than what he had been expecting, Hakuryuu turned his head quickly to look at him.

 

“What in the world would make you think that?” he asked, and Judal was astonished to hear bewilderment in the fae’s voice. Hakuryuu blinked at him curiously, and Judal found himself fumbling for words.

 

“I mean—Don’t you need to get back?”

 

Hakuryuu watched as his host shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, then rocked back on his heels. Judal’s hands found their way into his pockets, elbows pulling in against his sides so he was forcing himself to be as compact as possible. He did this, whenever something made him uncomfortable, and this concerned the prince.

 

“There are probably people worrying about you back home, right?” Judal continued, talking more to the ground than Hakuryuu now. “You’re a prince and stuff, so there’s gotta be like a whole castle full of people wondering where you are.”

 

Hakuryuu opened his mouth, but the words he wanted wouldn’t come. He thought better of them a moment later and shut his mouth again, though his gaze remained on Judal.

 

Judal was alone. This was not a concept he was unfamiliar with, it was something impossible to ignore and had been for some time now. He had no family, and if he had any friends they were not close enough to him to mind the fact that all his free time was now spent with Hakuryuu. No one would worry if he suddenly went missing, no one would be concerned that he’d been hurt and then just vanished.

 

People would worry about Hakuryuu, though. Or at least in Judal’s mind they probably would. Whether he was right or wrong was almost irrelevant, because what mattered was that he had considered it at all. That it had clearly been _bothering_ him.

 

Or, maybe, a selfish part of Hakuryuu murmured; it was the thought of Hakuryuu _leaving_ that concerned him.

 

“I cannot leave.” the prince assured finally. “Not until my debt to you is fulfilled.”

 

Judal looked up at him from behind his bangs, casting shadows over his ruby irises. There was an immediate urge to tuck his hair away from his face so nothing was obscuring their line of sight, an urge Hakuryuu had become remarkably adept at controlling in a short time.

 

“But there are, aren’t there?” he asked. “People waiting for you back home, I mean.”

 

Hakuryuu held Judal’s gaze. He tried to find words to answer with, but each sentence his mind crafted refused to leave his tongue. Each one felt like a lie, no matter how small.

 

In trying to think of a way to answer his host, his mind drifted back to the place where he had come from. The palace walls, white as freshly fallen snow, draped in silks and velvets of rich indigo. The cold always biting at every inch of unclothed skin. The memory spread along his fingertips until he could almost feel it, and he drew his fingers subconsciously away from the _Lady_ in response.

 

The snow and frost made him think of the day things had gone so drastically wrong. Ithnan and his pursuers circling him like starved vultures, prowling closer as they waited for him to die. The resistance he had helped to build scattered to the wind like leaves in a violent storm, and who knew how much of it had managed to survive. Iron. Sharp iron, cold as death, buried beneath his skin and spreading its venom through his veins. The agony had brought desperation, and desperation had called magic to him that tore open the very fabric of his reality.

 

Hakuryuu snapped back to the present and looked back to the _Lady_. The proud tree stood unaffected and unwavering, even as his magic pulsed warningly in the air. Judal still stood just behind him, though he hadn’t said anything to draw the prince’s attention back to him. As much as he wanted to offer Judal some kind of reassurance, he didn’t want to see the look in his host’s eyes just then.

 

Judal watched the prince as he lifted his hand again, drawing his fingers along the pale bark. His magic stopped vibrating in the air, relaxing back into the familiar hum that usually blanketed the courtyard. The question went unanswered, but he did not repeat it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next two days passed relatively quickly.

 

Judal tried not to dwell on negative thoughts, though they had a nasty habit of creeping their way into the back of his mind. He was distracted in class and got very little work done at home, too busy trying _not_ to think about what Hakuryuu would do once he had his arm back. Somewhat unsurprisingly, this led to a lot of time thinking about what he would do once he had his arm back.

 

The two days felt like no time at all once they had passed, yet in the moment they had dragged on endlessly, the overbearing sense of anxiety hard to ignore. Judal had been restless, constantly plagued by a sense that he should be _doing_ something, but failing to find any kind of productive activity when he actually stopped to look.

 

Hakuryuu wasn’t much better. He talked less and slept more, which Judal could only assume was to gather his strength for the full moon. If he wasn’t in the courtyard he was sitting in the window watching the sky, and it became a challenge to drag him away to eat. Neither of them said it, but the anticipation was enough to make them both fidgety.

 

The night of the full moon Judal gave up on all false pretenses of calm. He was too fractious to cook, so he ordered take-out and dragged Hakuryuu downstairs into the courtyard to eat it. They sat on the cooling concrete eating from styrofoam containers with cheap chopsticks, both lost in their own thoughts. The _Silver Lady_ ’s leaves swayed with the breeze.

 

Night couldn’t fall fast enough. The sun seemed to take its sweet time descending into the horizon, and each star that winked to life overhead was a little more taunting. Judal knew his eyes would be of little help but he looked upwards anyway, trying to find the moon. It was difficult to gauge when the night sky was at its peak within a city, the light and smog having obscured the heavens long ago.

 

“It’s almost time.” Hakuryuu murmured suddenly. His head was tipped back, eyes glittering with far more stars than were reflected above them.

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“I can feel it.”

 

Judal wanted to ask how, but Hakuryuu’s voice that taken on an almost airy tone that made him pause. It reminded him of someone who was still half-asleep, caught between reality and a dream somewhere. Just asleep enough to still feel the effects of a fantasy.

 

“You may want to go inside.”

 

Judal started.

 

“What? Why?”

 

“The magic will be intense. I’ve never done something so complex in the mortal realm, I am not sure how it will affect you… It may be safer for you to not be present.”

 

“Not a chance.” he bumped his elbow into the fae’s side, drawing his attention away from the sky. “You promised you’d show me, remember?”

 

Hakuryuu blinked his starry eyes at him, and Judal couldn’t help feeling like he was staring at the sky again. He had seen snowstorms in those eyes before, raging waves and thunder, and now galaxies twisted around glacial depths. It was haunting. If he stared too long, Judal got the sense he may go mad.

 

( He got the sense he may want to. )

 

“So I did.” Hakuryuu hummed, smile curling the edges of his mouth. “And I keep my promises.”

 

He stood, extending his hand in offering. Judal’s heart hammered against his ribs, all the anticipation from the days leading up to this morphing into excitement. He took Hakuryuu’s hand and the prince hoisted him to his feet with considerably more ease than a one-armed man should have.

 

It felt like static when their hands connected, the little shocks carrying up his arm to his elbow even after Hakuryuu let him go. Judal was so focused on the way the prince was moving, more fluidly than usual, as if every step were part of a dance, that it took him several long moments to recognize the feeling of _magic_. The air was practically vibrating with power, buzzing intensely in his ears. The sound of it amplified with each step Hakuryuu took towards the _Silver Lady_ , until Judal swore he could make out words in the static.

 

There was moonlight from overhead casting long shadows along the concrete, though if he looked up Judal had a feeling he would be unable to see the source of the light. And yet there it was, throwing the _Lady_ into sharp relief. The silvery leaves glittered and the bark of the tree looked as pure as a fresh sheet of paper. There was a presence to the tree now, something _alive_ , and Judal could suddenly see how someone might mistake the _Lady_ for a woman in the midst of a storm.

 

Judal closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure why he did it; maybe he was overwhelmed, or maybe it was instinct. The longer he stared at the _Silver Lady_ the more it began to sway alluringly before his eyes. He’d been around it for weeks now, as it grew from shoot to sapling, but it felt _different_ now. There was a reason it didn’t grow here on its own, in the mortal realm.

 

With his eyes shut, there was only the hum of magic all around him. It began to tingle against his skin, fractious at first and then more insistent, like it was trying to find a crack to slip into so it could worm its way inside him. The static began to even out, the noise becoming less incoherent until it was no longer white noise but fervent whispers he couldn’t quite catch.

 

When he opened his eyes, the _Silver Lady_ had changed.

 

It was as if some invisible force had begun to twist the tree in on itself as easily as if its sturdy wood were warm sugar waiting to be spun. The _Lady’s_ glimmering leaves had fanned back against its branches, coating them in silver that began to look more and more like scales. The branches had begun to braid themselves together, each one carefully twisted into place. They twined around the tree’s trunk in an intricate lacework of crossing boughs until it no longer looked anything like the proud tree from before, but an obelisk of spun silver.

 

Judal soon came to realize that the twisted woodwork had begun to lean downwards in a perfect arc. It extended itself just far enough over the plot where it still stood to be inviting, and Hakuryuu stepped into the moonlight.

 

He lifted his amputated arm until it was mere inches from what had once been the _Silver_ _Lady_ , and in the eerie light he appeared so pale that for a moment, Judal expected him to be translucent. In fact, the longer he looked the more convinced Judal became that he was seeing things. He blinked, but nothing changed; Hakuryuu had become blurred around the edges, almost like he was seeing him through an out of focus lens.

 

Judal’s eyes widened. Before his eyes, a second skin seemed to peel away from Hakuryuu’s arm, taking the opaque filter with it. Underneath, the skin was pale, though that word alone didn’t seem to do it justice. The shape of his arm was familiar and yet jarringly different than before, like everything about it had been shifted a fraction to the side of where it should have been.

 

A voice not unlike Hakuryuu’s murmured the word _glamour_ in his mind, but it seemed like _more_ than that. In all the stories Judal had devoured since Hakuryuu had come into his life the faerie people were always described the same; beautiful, but terrible. Alluring, but devastating. He wondered, in that moment, if this is what people meant by that. That they were a kind of being so radically different than a mortal that even if they didn’t mean to, they cloaked their very presence.

 

People had lost their hearts, their souls, and their minds to the fae. This was the first time that Judal truly got a sense of _why_. There was something contained beneath that filter that the mortal realm had coated Hakuryuu in, something ancient and powerful that a mortal mind could not comprehend. Just a fraction of it was already rocking Judal to his core.

 

The magic in his ears turned from whispers into distant peals of laughter, too far away to catch tone or intent, but loud enough to jar him from his thoughts and back to the event at hand.

 

The _Silver Lady_ had begun to move once more. The column of braided wood split at the top into thin tendrils that hovered for a moment before descending through the air. Their movements were not fluid, despite how it had twined itself together the _Lady_ was still made of wood and bark and it showed in its movements. Each coil was forced to curl and twist itself through the air, groaning under the strain of trying to bend. Yet it was undeterred by the effort necessary to move, stretching itself out over the edge of the plot towards Hakuryuu’s raised arm.

 

When the first coil met bare skin, the most remarkable thing happened. It began to grow along the curve of Hakuryuu’s arm, like ivy clinging to a wall, and soon it was joined by others, and others, until it was difficult to tell where Hakuryuu’s arm ended and the _Lady_ began. The creeping vines were transfixing to watch as they twined their way around his amputated limb, almost beautiful in a surreal sense. Nearly hypnotic enough for Judal to forget what their purpose was and discount them as another alluring display of Hakuryuu’s magic.

 

He recalled once telling Hakuryuu he didn’t quite understand the _tree-to-arm_ process he intended to undergo to replace his missing limb. Judal sucked in a sharp breath, eyes coming back into focus. A moment before it happened he understood _exactly_ what the process would entail.

 

The silvery tendrils curved at the tip, pressing into the faerie’s unearthly skin, and then began to grow _into_ him.

 

Hakuryuu made a sound that came out too melodic to be a cry of pain, but some instinctual part of Judal recognized it as just that. He lurched slightly where he stood, forcefully shifting his weight forward before he could think better of it. Every part of him wanted to go to the prince and wrench the thing causing him pain away, even if his mind was telling him that would be unwise.

 

Lilac began to ooze from beneath Hakuryuu’s skin; soon the silver of the wood burrowing its way into his flesh was slicked with purple blood, dripping in an agonizing staccato to the concrete below. Hakuryuu hissed between his teeth, muscles in his bicep fluttering as they tensed against the pain, but he did not flinch. He held himself steady as the _Silver Lady_ took root inside him, even as it forced itself deeper, down to the very bone.

 

Judal could do little more than stand by and watch in a morbid combination of fascination and repulsion. Until this moment, he had still been laboring under the illusion that magic was the beautiful and mysterious thing of childhood fantasies. _This_ was not beautiful. This, magic, was not sparkling dust and shimmering mist like in the movies. It was something raw, a force of nature being bent to the whim of a creature whose mind was strong enough to control it.

 

They could have been standing there minutes or hours and Judal wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. It was difficult for him to tell if he was even breathing, or if his heart continued to beat. The coils of silver were a bloody mess, undulating deeper and deeper into warped, raised skin until they finally seemed satisfied with how deeply they had taken root. Judal wanted that to be the end of it, but now Hakuryuu stood connected to the twisted _Silver Lady_.

 

He finally looked at the _Silver Lady_ again, the act of dragging his eyes from the prince almost painful. While he had been focused on Hakuryuu, the _Lady_ had begun to uproot itself. The tree, or what had once been one, seemed to be climbing its way from the earth. Its roots were silver beneath the dirt caked into each crevice and contour, and braided themselves into the column with the rest of the tree as they emerged.

 

What came next was difficult to describe. Later, Judal would say it looked as though the _Lady_ had shrunk, but that wasn’t entirely accurate. The groan of wood strained to its limit was deafening as the _Lady_ seemed to drag itself towards its new roots in the prince’s arm, twisting and compacting itself as it went. By mortal rules it should not have been possible for the entirety of the tree to force itself into a smaller space the way it did, but that is what happened. Even as he watched it, Judal didn’t know how to rationalize it.

 

It stopped, club-like now, when it appeared to deem itself the appropriate size. The stillness of time seemed to dissipate then, and the next part of the process went by remarkably quickly. To Judal it felt as though he blinked a handful of times and by the time he opened his eyes the wood was different. And then, as suddenly as if it had always been there, there was a new limb.

 

Hakuryuu breathed out, long and low, and curled his new fingers inwards to form a fist.

 

“Thank you for your aid, _Silver_ _Lady_ ,” he breathed. “May you serve me well.”

 

After that, the heavy magic in the air began to disperse until Judal could feel himself breathing again. The faint sound of traffic from distant streets drowned out the fading murmurs in his ears, and before long the moonlight had faded away entirely.

 

Judal was left standing in the dim courtyard, shaking his head to rid the last of the static from his mind. Hakuryuu was flexing his hand, curling and uncurling the fingers experimentally. He rotated his wrist several times, making a few small gestures to test his own reflexes. The plot where he had replanted the _Lady_ was eerily empty now, a blank space amidst the otherwise lush courtyard.

 

It was surreal, the whole thing was. Judal wanted to pinch himself and smack his cheeks just to be sure he hadn’t just dreamt it all up, even if he knew he hadn’t. No dream could match the awe-inspiring reality he’d just endured.

 

“Judal? Are you alright…?”

 

Hakuryuu’s voice sounded concerned, even if he tried not to let it show on his face. Judal wondered if he looked frightened, or dazed, or maybe a combination of the two. He’d like to say that _fear_ wasn’t what he was feeling, but in truth, he couldn’t be sure anymore. Magic like that wasn’t meant for mortal eyes, not really.

 

“I’m…” he faltered between honesty and a white lie, but the words were stuck in his throat.

 

Hakuryuu seemed to understand anyway.

 

“It was overwhelming, wasn’t it?” he smiled. “Do not worry, it is that way for everyone the first time they witness it. Even me.”

 

Judal wasn’t sure what to say to that. He wanted to ask how Hakuryuu, who seemed so steady in the face of such untenable power, could understand what it was like to feel so dwarfed by it. What had his first experience with magic so old, so powerful, been like?

 

He found himself walking forward, slow steps carrying him across the courtyard to the prince’s side. Judal’s fingers twitched at his side, one hand raising slightly before pausing, unsure. Again, Hakuryuu seemed to understand him without any words.

 

“Please,” he said gently, extending his new arm.

 

Judal hesitated for another fraction of a second before lifting his hand so that the wooden one was cradled in his palm. He half expected the wood to be hot, or electrocute him, or something else unpleasant, but it was only wood. Bolstered slightly by this, he traced the fingers of his right hand along Hakuryuu’s palm.

 

The wood felt lacquered and smooth, as if hours had gone into honing and polishing it rather than mere moments. He wasn’t sure how it all connected, but each finger had three joints, and there was one at his wrist as well, almost like some kind of puppet. Judal ran his finger from the heel of his palm up his middle finger, watching in awe as the digit seemed to respond to the touch.

 

“Can you feel that…?” he asked breathlessly, tracing his fingertips along each finger in turn.

 

“It is a living thing,” Hakuryuu replied. “And now, it is a part of me. So, yes, I can feel somewhat.”

 

“Somewhat?”

 

“It is dulled. Less true feeling and more a… murmur. My nerves can only be conveyed so much through the wood, but it will have to suffice.”

 

“It’s _amazing_ , Hakuryuu.”

 

Judal slid his hand along the underside of the arm, over his wrist and down his forearm until his fingers brushed against something curved. He stopped, eyes drifting to the collection of roots tethered into the prince’s flesh. The blood had begun to congeal, turning a deep mulberry color.

 

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

 

“It aches, but that will pass. I have endured worse for less in the past.”

 

“Should I stay home tomorrow…?”

 

“No, you have classes, you should attend—“

 

“I’m gonna stay home tomorrow.”

 

Hakuryuu chuckled, but did not protest again.

 

They stood there in silence for a while longer, Judal’s fingers mapping the intricate curved designs embossed on the silver wood. They were the life patterns of the tree that it had once been, but now they looked almost intentional. Hakuryuu watched him quietly, allowing the moments to drag on.

 

He raised his right hand suddenly, palm up. Judal understood what he intended without a word being spoken, and moved his hands so both fingers could run along his palms at the same time. He traced the same path, from the heel of Hakuryuu’s palm up to the tip of his middle finger, on each hand. The left twitched, the same as before, but before he could finish his route the right’s fingers curled around his.

 

Judal glanced up, and found the prince smiling softly at him. He relaxed both hands, curling his fingers around Hakuryuu’s, flesh and wood pressing into his palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who do not know, a **glamour** is a sort of magic or spell that disguises the user's appearance. Faeries are known for using glamours quite often to hide their true selves from mortals, or to disguise a place or thing they want to keep hidden, or appearing mundane. The spell Hakuryuu used to hide the changes to the courtyard from people outside the building is a glamour, for example.
> 
> In most cases a glamour is intentional, however in the case of what's described here it is not. Hakuryuu's "second skin" is the result of his natural appearance being too unnatural for the mortal world to even fathom without something covering it up. It doesn't disguise his appearance, just his true "nature".
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter is going to be something a bit different, so I hope everyone is ready!


	12. Insight the 1st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, let me mention the new tags this work has acquired. From here on in, the following tags will apply to the fic; **Body Horror, The Ren Family, Ren Kouha, Ren Koumei, Ren Kougyoku and Ren Gyokuen**. I will try to keep every apprised as tags continue to change. 
> 
> Next, as I mentioned in last week's notes, this chapter's something a bit different! Don't be put off by the title of "Insight", as this refers to it simply being a chapter that is separate from the others, dealing with another part of the plot. In this case "Insight" will further refer to chapters that follow the goings-on in Sidhe while Hakuryuu is not there. They do not fall anywhere specific on the fic's timeline, since time in Sidhe moves differently than in the mortal realm. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys!

The sharp chime of a silver bell echoed around the vaulted ceilings of the UnSeelie throne room, mimicking itself until it was heard in every corner of the vast space. Courtiers immediately ceased conversation, and entertainers halted and began to collect their instruments as swiftly as they could. Lords and their entourages swept from the hall through side doors that disappeared back into the smooth stone once they were shut, and the gentry filtered out the high double-doors.

 

Some lingered behind, dismantling complex instruments and sets for acrobats, or clearing away debris left by those of higher standing. A group of elderly looking fae with gnarled faces shuffled back and forth in one corner of the room, muttering between themselves and gesticulating with their withered hands.

 

The Queen sighed contently, gently setting aside the thin silver mallet she had used to strike the bell to indicate court was dismissed. She settled herself back into her throne, lifting a single elegant hand and curling her finger over her shoulder.

 

From the shadows two women emerged, one on each side of her throne. To her right stood a beautiful fae with a face similar to the Queen’s, her gown made of white silk hemmed in soft blues and violets. She smiled at the Queen before casting her eyes to the handmaiden on the left. This woman was shorter, but of the same lithe build as her counterpart, her red hair twisted back in an intricate bun on the top of her head. Her gown was embellished with scarlet and peony, which brought out the pink in her eyes.

 

“Hakuei, darling,” the Queen purred, turning a honeyed smile on the taller handmaiden. “What did you think of the minstrel with the golden flute? I don’t believe she’s played for my court before.”

 

“As I understand it this was her first performance, my Queen.” Hakuei replied. “I found her melodies to be very charming, though they sounded foreign to me.”

 

The Queen hummed thoughtfully, as though her handmaiden’s opinion truly made a difference to her. She glanced at her second handmaiden, lips pulling into another sweet smile.

 

“And you, Kougyoku? What did you think?”

 

A brief smile touched Kougyoku’s cherubic mouth, just long enough to be thought of as polite, if not sincere.

 

“I thought her music was lovely. I think she would go well in a duet with one of the lute players, if it would please you, my Queen.”

 

“What a delightful idea! But do you not think a lyre might be better?”

 

“I had not thought of that, my Queen.”

 

Kougyoku did _not_ think the flutist would go better with a lyre than a lute, but her opinion was of no consequence, and the question had been meant to try and trip her up. The Queen of the UnSeelie Court liked to play these kinds of games, twisting her words into charming niceties that could so easily get one killed. In the past Kougyoku had had her own fair share of slips, and it was only by the status of her birth that she was yet to lose her head for it.

 

She exchanged a look with Hakuei, who smiled in that lovely way that calmed even the most terrified of hearts. It just looked placative to Kougyoku, and she did not return it.

 

Their attention turned to the steps leading up to the Queen’s throne as someone set their foot on the lowest step. At the base of the incline stood the Queen’s favorite knight, wearing the sleek armor of their court beneath his heavy cloak. He swept into a low bow on bended knee, his fist resting against the cold ground.

 

“Queen Gyoukuen,” he spoke to the stone. “I have returned. Though I should have sent a runner before myself, I desired to speak to you in person, if I could trouble you for the moments of your most treasured time.”

 

The crimson of Gyoukuen’s pretty mouth pulled wide into a girlish smile that almost didn’t suit her face. It certainly didn’t match with her icy eyes, deep as vaults beneath icy mountains and ten times more treacherous.

 

“Ithnan!” she said, sounding utterly titillated by the sight of him. “Such a pleasure to have you come home safely, my knight. Come, raise your head, there’s no need to bow so low before me.”

 

Ithnan rose as he was bade, smiling fondly up at his Queen. From behind his checkered mask Kougyoku could make out the sparkle of his topaz eyes. She refrained from grimacing, and instead swept her eyes around the hall in an attempt not to focus on the exchange going on between matriarch and servant.

 

Ithnan had always been a _loyal_ servant of the UnSeelie Queen, more than happy to grovel at her feet since the moment he had been knighted. He had taken the heads of most of his superiors on his way to his current title, which on its own would not have inspired the disgust Kougyoku felt for him, but his gusto for doing so was revolting. It seemed twisted to call it infatuation, but whatever it was that kept Ithnan panting at the Queen’s heels like a well-trained dog, it turned her stomach.

 

Then again, perhaps if she herself was at all loyal to the Queen she might understand.

 

“I bring news of the task you set me, my Queen.”

 

Kougyoku’s eyes snapped back to the knight, her focus once more on what he was saying. Ithnan had left the court some days prior with his subordinates in tow, and no one had been sure why. Not that his assignments were often widely known, but the timing seemed peculiar, since it was about then that murmurs of where a certain missing prince might be had begun to circulate.

 

Gyoukuen’s eyes lit up, sparks dancing around her irises in a furious flurry. Both handmaidens averted their gaze, but the knight seemed too enraptured to do the same.

 

“Hakuei, Kougyoku,” the Queen said sharply, rising in one fluid motion from her throne. “See to it that my affairs for the evening are postponed. Send dinner up to the west wing balcony, Ithnan and I will be dining there this evening.”

 

“As you wish it, my Queen.” Hakuei and Kougyoku said in unison, bowing their heads.

 

Gyoukuen swept down the steps from her throne, linking her slender arm through the crook of Ithnan’s once she alighted on the ground. They began to talk in hushed tones as she led him away, tucked a little too closely against his side for anyone to more than glance at them without feeling uncomfortable.

 

The handmaidens divided up the evenings tasks between themselves and then took their leave through separate exits. Kougyoku walked briskly through the wide halls of the palace, stopping only long enough to relay specific orders to those who were meant to receive them. As the Queen’s handmaiden, she was obeyed without too much conflict, and then on her way again.

 

Hakuei had ended up with the more difficult task of dismantling the scheduled events for that evening, while Kougyoku was only to see to dinner and the Queen’s nightly bath. They were taken care of in short order and soon she was left to her own devices, which found her ducking down a shadowed side hall and away from prying eyes.

 

She wondered if she’d made Hakuei angry with her behavior today. Since that morning, Kougyoku had been ill-tempered, showing it only as much as she was strictly permitted without overstepping her bounds. Hakuei had done little to assuage her mood, or even find its origin, but Kougyoku thought it should be obvious.

 

Her face twisted into a displeased scowl directed at the carpet beneath her feet for the first time that day. She would like to apologize to Hakuei, but the more she thought of it the more Kougyoku thought she didn’t have a reason to. If anyone should have been in dampened spirits today, it should have been Hakuei, not her.

 

Hakuryuu had not been to court for over three moons now. His absence hadn’t worried her, he was more than free to come and go as he liked, and letters often arrived to inform his mother of his activities so she wouldn’t send the hounds after him. Even though a letter hadn’t come for some time now, it hadn’t concerned her too greatly.

 

But then came the whispers. There had never been whispers before, querying where the young prince was, what he was doing, and why he had not returned to his mother’s side in so long. Rumors like this did not just _start_ in UnSeelie court, someone had to set them in motion. If there were questions now, it meant something was different.

 

Different, especially in regards to her youngest cousin, was _never_ a good thing.

 

Kougyoku made her way through the winding halls of the palace with the ease of someone who had been born within them. Outsiders were always disoriented at first, unless they were old enough for the magic of the place to settle comfortably around them. The pure white walls became a clustered mess in their minds, and more than once a fae had become lost within the labyrinthine walkways for an eternity.

 

( You passed them sometimes as you walked, their hovelled forms caught just out of the corner of your eye. Some continued to wander, hands pressed to the walls and muttering that surely, just around the next corner, while others sat huddled in on themselves, eyes vacant. Kougyoku had learned very young that it was best not to try to help them to their destination.  )

 

These halls were as familiar to her as the veins on the backs of her hands, though, and she traversed them with ease. A clear destination was set in her mind, and soon the colors around her began to shift from deep indigos and shimmering sapphires, to warm mulberry and violet. Red had been dipped into blue pigment here, mixed into rich royal purple that immediately made her shoulders relax.

 

This wing of the palace belonged to her, in a sense. It was the space where she and her siblings resided, designated to them as a branch of the bloodline holding the UnSeelie crowns. They were the most closely related to the crown itself, so they received an entire wing to themselves rather than just a few rooms here and there, as some of their more distant relatives did. It was the purple that gave them away, their color, meant to signify this as their territory in a sense steeped as much in magic as in instinct.

 

There was another wing, opposite theirs, that now stood mostly empty. The deep blues of the UnSeelie court faded there into pale robin and softer whites than the stone that they covered. It had been just as full as their wing, once upon a time, but the Queen’s blood had thinned considerably over the centuries, so that now only her two remaining children resided there.

 

Hakuryuu had once confessed, in a quiet moment during a hunt Kougyoku had accompanied him on, that the vast wing felt lonely, and still as a tomb. She had made a point to try and visit him there more, after that.

 

Her steps still hesitated as she passed the door to the room she used to share with two of her older sisters, so used to entering the ornately carved doors even after all this time. She had been moved to a room of her own after the Queen had selected her as a handmaiden, though this too also played host to her sisters most of the time.

 

However Kougyoku passed this door as well, her brisk steps carrying her deeper into her family’s halls. There was a destination in her mind, and when she reached it her footfalls became muted, until they were entirely silent. She crept to the door, touching her fingers to the polished wooden surface. Magic seeped into the wood, her very presence welcome and recognized by the threshold of the room beyond. Voices filtered from behind the closed door through the magic, brushing against her eardrums, and the handmaiden paused to listen.

 

“…as if they’re being subtle about it. We have all heard the whispers.”

 

“If subtlety has been forgone, then do you really think…?”

 

“Stop it, both of you! We can’t entertain this notion!”

 

“It is no longer being entertained, brother. With Ithnan’s return and the growing rumors, I can only take it to mean…”

 

“But, surely, we would have heard something more by now? Your informant, he only said it was a _presumption_ , did he not? Could that not mean—“

 

“In another circumstance, I would indulge us all in optimism.”

 

All three voices fell silent, a stifling pause blanketing the conversation. It lasted long enough that Kougyoku’s fingers twitched towards the handle of the door before one of the voice spoke again.

 

“So, that’s it then. We just have to assume…”

 

“That Hakuryuu is dead.”

 

Kougyoku threw the door open so quickly that the sudden contrast in lighting, from the dim hall to the more brightly lit interior, almost blinded her. She blinked the spots from her eyes, and drew in a deep breath.

 

“ _What_ in the name of the sun and stars are you _talking_ about?!” she hissed through her teeth, voice trembling with the barely contained urge to shout.

 

Across from her, all three of her elder brothers relaxed.

 

Kouen’s hand relaxed, sliding his blade back into its sheathe. He was still dressed in his hunting clothes, the only thing he had removed being the heavy riding cloak tossed over the back of the couch he’d settled on. Koumei and Kouha had similar reactions, each lowering their respective weapons back to where they usually rested at the sight of their sister. Kouha had apparently been pacing, his bangs mussed from where he must have been running his fingers through them, and Koumei looked wearier than usual.

 

“Shut the door, Kougyoku.” Kouen said, gesturing her into the room with his hand.

 

Kougyoku wrestled a momentary defiance to stay just where she was, but ultimately shut the door as instructed. Koumei flicked his fingers lazily, and magic flickered through the air towards the door. An almost imperceptible hiss whispered its way from the cracks in the wood as the door sealed itself from further intrusion.

 

“Is it true?” Kougyoku demanded, her small hands curled into trembling fists at her sides. “Is Hakuryuu dead?”

 

Kouha resumed his pacing, arms crossed over his barely clothed chest and scowl directed at the carpeted floor as if it had done him a great wrong.

 

“It is best,” Kouen said carefully. “To proceed under that assumption.”

 

“And what does _that_ mean?! We can’t just write him off, brother, he’s--!”

 

“Kougyoku, while I understand your distress, now is not the time to be emotional. We cannot afford overreaction, for any of our sakes. Breathe, sister.”

 

What Kougyoku _wanted_ to do was scream a bit and maybe hurl a bolt of fury tainted magic at something, but she restrained herself. It took several calming breaths for her to loosen her fists any.

 

“Until now, the Queen has made a great effort to quash any talk of Hakuryuu being anything but loyal.” Koumei began, after a moment. “Even if we all know he’s never stood with her, it was how she wanted him to be seen. He may have left the court of his own will, but it was in her interest to paint that as freedoms she gave to her favorite child.”

 

“Now, people are beginning to talk. Mutter and gossip like a bunch of bored pixies around a bottle of daffodil wine, the damned—“ Kouha snarled through his teeth rather than continue his cursing.

 

“The timing is all too convenient. Hakuryuu stops sending word of his wellbeing to the court, Ithnan is sent on some assignment from which he returns a great deal of men lesser, and people ask for the first time in memory where the prince has gone…”

 

“What does any of that _accomplish_ , though?” Kougyoku asked as she sank down on the chaise beside Koumei. “It’s as you said, Hakuryuu has never taken too grand a stand against the Queen, so simply taking his life without reason would cause too much discord to be worth the trouble. He has supporters, even she knows that.”

 

“Not if she can assign the blame to someone else.”

 

“What— _Seelie_? You honestly think she’d go so far as to accuse the Seelie court of--?”

 

“She has taken great pains to accuse them of plenty already, no matter how sugarcoated her words were at the time.” Kouen remarked gravely.

 

“Can’t you question Ithnan’s whereabouts?!” Kouha snapped, spinning on his heel to face his eldest brother. “You have more than the status to do so, stars know!”

 

“I doubt it would serve us any to question him. His loyalty to the Queen is absolute, he would sooner die than unveil her plans.”

 

“If he’d have need to do so at all.” Koumei sighed. “He headed south when he left the court, did he not? It’s no secret that there’s been some sort of stirrings out there, a rebellion of some kind they say, though against what no one’s got much idea.”

 

“Oh that’s a lot of _dung_ , they know exactly what they’re rebelling against!”

 

But still, none of them said it aloud. Despite the locked room, the magic sealing them in, and how freely they spoke with disdain for the Queen, a certain anxiety rested in all of them with the thought that she may just be listening.

 

“…Do you think,” Kougyoku said softly, her hands twisting into the fabric covering her knees. “That Hakuryuu was involved, somehow?”

 

“If he was, then he’s been remarkable about hiding it.”

 

“Yes, but I can think of at least one fae who may know.”

 

Kouha stopped his pacing, and all eyes fell on Kouen. The four siblings sat in silence for a second time in only so many minutes, tension twisting knots into the air around them. Implications laced their every word, and the more they talked the more obvious it became that this may be a tipping point.

 

It was ingrained in every fae to possess some loyalty to their court, and by further extension to their Queen. But it was not something that controlled them, it was not a thing they were driven to live by. Like any relationship it could be strained and broken altogether under the right circumstances. It was lunacy, a death wish if ever there was one to go behind the back of the Queen, but some things were more important than that.

 

“She’s gone too far.” Kouha said, his voice sounding both pained and vicious in the same breath. “I can’t—I don’t think _any_ of us can bear to let her cross this line any further. We shouldn’t have let it come this far at all.”

 

“I agree.” Koumei murmured, and beside him Kougyoku nodded.

 

Kouen closed his eyes, sighing through his nose before bowing his head.

 

“It’s settled, then.” he spoke calmly, his voice holding a dark edge to it that one rarely heard off the battlefield. “I will make contact the rebellion. I will not allow her to use Hakuryuu’s life as a piece in her war game.”


	13. Chapter 11

Judal had never used his would-be kitchen bar for more than an extra shelf in all the time he had lived in his tiny apartment. He suspected, though, that this was its intended purpose, and also why every other kitchen bar owner seemed to have the sense to own at least one stool.

 

For the better part of the last hour Judal had been leaned against the counter, watching Hakuryuu as he made breakfast. A stool to sit on would have been nice, Judal was pretty sure his legs were asleep from standing still too long, but he didn’t mind. It was worth it to watch the prince bustling about his kitchen, livelier than he had been since arriving.

 

This wasn’t the first time he had made a meal for them, but it was only the second time Judal had had the chance to watch him. The first few days after acquiring his new limb Hakuryuu had been up and moving long before Judal had even considered waking up. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like to live with such a handicap, even for a short period of time, but Hakuryuu seemed elated to have full use of his limbs again.

 

“Open.” Hakuryuu instructed shortly, turning on his heel and holding a spoon up in Judal’s direction, hand underneath it so it wouldn’t make a mess.

 

Judal obliged immediately, leaning up on his toes so he could reach the offering and taste whatever it was Hakuryuu was making. Hot syrup hit his tongue, tasting of apples, raspberries, and a hint of mint.

 

“That’s _fantastic_.” Judal praised, licking his lips. “Is it done yet? Tell me it’s done!”

 

Hakuryuu did his best not to visibly preen, and only failed slightly. His ears gave him away, the tips always gave a little flick when he felt particularly proud of himself.

 

“Not quite yet, but I’m glad you approve.” he said, turning back to the stove.

 

His wooden arm had been a little bit unruly for the first day and a half. Small gestures and reflexive responses came easily, but the first time he’d tried to pick something up he’d shattered a glass with the strength of his grip. Hakuryuu had probably not slept between then and when he finally seemed satisfied with his control over his new limb, exercising and testing himself like a man possessed.

 

Judal had heard of recuperation from major surgery ( which was the closest equivalent he could think of to replacing one’s arm with a magical tree ) taking months, sometimes even years. He’d suspected Hakuryuu would be quicker than that, but it seemed to him that the prince had been uncharacteristically motivated.

 

When he asked about it-- because when had he ever been the type to hold his tongue --Hakuryuu had told him that he was concerned about breaking more of Judal’s belongings. However with the way his eyes cast over him, from head to toe, Judal guessed what he really meant was that he was concerned about breaking _him_.

 

Now, Hakuryuu’s wooden arm moved with nearly the same practiced dexterity as his flesh and blood one. Sometimes Judal would hear him muttering about it not having quite the right reaction time or something of the like, but if that was the case _he_ certainly couldn’t tell.

 

Breakfast was eaten on the couch and coffee table, as it was most mornings. Judal sat there bouncing his knees in anticipation, having been banished from the kitchen for the last few minutes of cooking.

 

“You’re better at this than me.” Judal complimented, after Hakuryuu arrived with two plates stacked with perfectly golden pancakes.

 

“I’ve been cooking substantially longer than you.” Hakuryuu pointed out. ( His ears flicked again anyway. )

 

“Yeah but last I checked you didn’t even know what a pancake _was_ when you got here. Now you can make ‘em off the top of your head!”

 

Hakuryuu made a face at the memory of his confusion over the nature of a _pan-cake_ and Judal laughed.

 

Things had changed since that first morning together, and they kept changing more and more as time went on. When Judal stopped to think about it, the shifts in their relationship were almost daunting, like a constantly moving current that he could easily be swept away in. There were so many ways things between them could have ended up, many of them unpleasant, and yet here they were. A mortal and his faerie companion, sharing a breakfast of pancakes and apple-raspberry syrup in their pajamas.

 

Judal wouldn’t change it for the world. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been as happy as he was now, sitting side by side with Hakuryuu. The thought of when the prince would be gone from his life crept back into his mind from time to time, but Judal selfishly clung to the promise that he would be going nowhere until his debt was repaid. Judal had yet to make even one of his three wishes, and a part of him wanted to keep it that way.

 

However, regarding Hakuryuu sticking around; Judal glanced the prince over thoughtfully. He had seen him in this shirt before, and the sweatpants, though never in this combination. Naturally, Judal had done laundry since the last time they were worn, but that wasn’t what he was thinking about.

 

“Say, Hakuryuu,” he mused aloud. “Have you left the apartment at all? Since you got here I mean.”

 

Hakuryuu raised an eyebrow at him while he chewed, answering only once he had swallowed.

 

“What are you talking about? We were outside together just yesterday.”

 

“Okay, not the courtyard, that doesn’t count. I mean like, have you walked around the city at all? Down the block? Anything?”

 

The prince sipped his juice ( berry and some kind of fruit from the courtyard, hand pressed ) before replying, his brow furrowed slightly.

 

“No, I have not.” he admitted. “I do not think it wise I leave your threshold for too long, if I should do so at all.”

 

“Threshold?”

 

Hakuryuu had to force himself not to visibly perk up at the chance to educate Judal more on faerie magic. The role of teacher wasn’t one he’d ever fancied for himself, but there was something about how attentively his companion hung on his every word that made him want to explain the entire universe to him. He gestured around the apartment with his hand instead, drawing Judal’s eyes around his living space.

 

“Places where people congregate, specifically where they live, have thresholds.” he began. “They’re a kind of magic that builds up over time; the longer an individual resides in a certain place, the more powerful the threshold becomes. Say a bloodline lives in a single manor for generations upon generations, the threshold there will be incredibly powerful.”

 

“And a rented apartment, not so much, right?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Sorry about that, then.”

 

“Nonsense.” Hakuryuu brushed the apology off with a wave of his hand. “Even the weakest threshold poses a threat to my kind. If we cross it without invitation, a great portion of our power is left at the door, this is the case for every sort of magical creature.”

 

“So that’s why in stories you have to invite things in? Because otherwise they leave their power behind?”

 

“Precisely. It can be dangerous, if not outright deadly, to cross a threshold unwelcomed. In some cases the threshold is powerful enough to simply vaporize a weaker fae.”

 

Judal tilted his head in the way Hakuryuu had come to associate with his host making one of his astute observations.

 

“So, then, since I’ve seen you doing magic and stuff; are you missing a chunk of your power? Or does dragging your unconscious body inside count as an invitation?”

 

Hakuryuu smiled faintly. Judal was becoming increasingly aware of the intricacies of faerie law.

 

“It counts as an invitation to bring an injured being inside. You are taking responsibility for them, thereby offering up your home for their care.” he straightened his back slightly. “However I’m also not even close to my full potential here in the mortal realm, so in a way I’m still at a disadvantage.”

 

Judal didn’t miss the hint of smugness in his voice, a grin curling his lips as he poked the prince with the handle of his fork.

 

“ _Someone_ is bragging!” he teased. “That’s not very princely of you, you know.”

 

“I am not _bragging_!”

 

“You are!”

 

“It’s a statement of fact.”

 

“Well, how’s this for a statement of fact; you’ve been wearing the same ten shirts since you got here with like, maybe three exceptions.”

 

“I could go without them.”

 

The words slipped off the prince’s tongue with such precise smoothness it took Judal a moment to actually catch their meaning. It almost slipped by him entirely, except that it was hard to miss Hakuryuu’s eyes trained intently on him, focused on every minute shift in his expression. Judal felt heat rising along his cheekbones, threatening to turn the tips of his ears a rosy red.

 

The corner of Hakuryuu’s mouth pulled upwards slightly, and there was a satisfied sparkle in his eye. Judal suddenly felt horribly tongue tied.

 

“What… I meant was,” he managed to get out after a moment wrestling his heart back down into his ribcage where it belonged. “If you’re staying here, we should probably get you some clothes of your own, yeah?”

 

Hakuryuu seemed to consider this, though as he did his eyes trailed over Judal with a kind of careless observation Judal hadn’t been prepared for. Hakuryuu _knew_ how to be subtle, he was in most things he did, so it said something that Judal could actually count the seconds the prince remained focused on his mouth before his eyes moved on.

 

And then Hakuryuu was back to himself again, eyes on his and posture straight.

 

“I see what you mean. I could simply _create_ something new, the things I’ve grown in the courtyard alone should suffice for materials—“

 

Judal felt himself deflate slightly.

 

“—but I’ve never been much of a tailor.”

 

Hakuryuu smiled when his host’s eyes sparkled. In truth, tailor or not it was a simply matter of feeding his desires into his magic and creating whatever he wished, if not as pristinely as one of the trained fae back in the palace. However he was beginning to realize that, bond of debt or not, he had a difficult time saying _no_ to his host.

 

It grew more and more trying by the day to deny him things, he found. Judal’s delighted smile could go toe to toe with the most powerful spell of compulsion, in Hakuryuu’s opinion.

 

“Finish your breakfast,” he said. “Then we’ll go out.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Common sense, in a loud and thoroughly exasperated voice, repeated for the umpteenth time that going out was probably not in Hakuryuu’s best interest. Hakuryuu was well accustomed to dismissing the voice of common sense, however, and so it went ignored. At first brush he knew he came off as a terribly straight-laced individual, one who probably had a disdain for rule breakers and rebels. This, if his affiliation with an _actual rebellion_ wasn’t hint enough, couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

 

More than anything Hakuryuu enjoyed having freedom of will, the ability to choose whether or not he made that incredibly bad decision. Was it a better idea to remain safely behind the threshold and avoid any potential consequences? Of course it was. But Hakuryuu had been antsy since his first week here, and Judal wanted to spend the day with him, and frankly he didn’t care.

 

That didn’t mean he was _reckless_ though, he had the good sense to strap his sword to his waist before they left, looping the harness through the belt loops of the pants he’d borrowed from Judal. The weight of it at his hip was familiar, and he hadn’t realized how much he had missed the security of being armed until his hand was resting on the hilt again.

 

“You know, swords went out of style around here like three hundred years ago. I think someone’s going to notice that.” Judal said, nodding towards his waist.

 

Hakuryuu blinked, then looked down at where his hand was resting. There was nothing remarkable about the sword to his eyes, but the faint shimmer around its edges assured him that the sword _should_ have been under a glamour.

 

“…You can see this?” Hakuryuu asked, shifting his palm so the sword moved slightly back and forth.

 

Judal tilted his head.

 

“Well, yeah. It’s sort of hard to miss a sword.”

 

“Is that so…”

 

It should have been _very_ easy to miss the sword. In fact, Judal’s eyes should have glossed over it as if it wasn’t there at all.

 

Now the he thought about it, Judal should have also walked straight past the courtyard the day they had their argument. Hakuryuu had been so busy drinking in his enthusiasm, and then feeling horribly guilty over his actions, that that had entirely slipped his mind. His glamour was meant to affect any mortal viewing the courtyard from the outside looking in, Judal shouldn’t have been an exception.

 

Maybe Judal was just one of _those_ mortals, with particularly strong senses, he supposed. Hakuryuu strengthened the glamour, a faint rush of magic slithering down his arm into the sword. Judal continued to blink at him without reaction.

 

_Or maybe not._ Hakuryuu thought, and then forced himself to stop dwelling on it any longer. He could mull over this development in his own time, it would do nothing to be preoccupied during their outing.

 

To Judal’s credit, when they walked out the door and Hakuryuu’s sword was still at his side, he didn’t mention it again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Crossing the threshold had been less of an ordeal than Hakuryuu expected it to be. He had paused to shudder as the magic pulled free of him with an unpleasant tug, and then waited for the inevitable fallout. A large part of him expected flashing lights and noise announcing his departure from safety to the entire world. Or skipping that entirely, some feral fae swooping down on him the minute he stepped onto the sidewalk.

 

Nothing remarkable happened, though. He stood there on the concrete for a moment, no longer shielded by Judal’s abode, and the mortal world moved on. It was a little bit disconcerting to be out in such a wide space again without much in the way of limitations. The cityscape was cluttered with buildings large and small, and the chemicals in the air still made him want to gag, but there was _freedom_ suddenly and it was dizzying. The fact that no one looked twice at him, no eyes lingered and no one lowered their head in reverence, was equal parts unnerving and exhilarating at once.

 

Hakuryuu suddenly had the urge to wander, which wasn’t unusual for fae, but was an instinct he had reigned in considerably in his youth. He struggled between wanting to dart as far as his legs would carry him and being far too uncomfortable to do much more than stand there. The median was to just stay in one spot, nearly vibrating.

 

Judal was smiling at him, and this proved thoroughly distracting.

 

“Come on,” he chuckled, holding out a hand. He had put on a collection of beaded and rope bracelets today, none of which matched. Hakuryuu found himself staring at them, wanting to know the story behind every single one no matter how mundane.

 

The prince reached out slowly, slipping his hand into his host’s. Judal wound their fingers together, his grip warm and abundantly comforting, and drew Hakuryuu carefully to his side. Their hands remained clasped even after the prince had taken the first few steps, hovering between them.

 

“Not so bad out here, right?”

 

_Yes. Your air is toxic and your ground is made of death and chemicals, you’ve eradicated nature and smothered the sky. This place is_ suffocating.

 

“No.” Hakuryuu hummed, squeezing Judal’s hand as if this would quiet the hissing voice of his darker thoughts. “Not so bad at all.”

 

Judal kept their hands clasped as he led him down the street. Hakuryuu was glad for the chance to mindlessly follow his host, it gave him time to try and defend against the angry buzzing in the back of his head. His whole body was revolting at the idea of being out in the mortal realm, amidst their smog and concrete, and he had to focus hard to stop himself from being physically ill. The sunlight helped, though it hit his skin through a filter of atmosphere and buildings that just didn’t exist in Sidhe.

 

By the time Judal was pausing in front of some large vehicle, Hakuryuu had compartmentalized his body’s reactions enough to focus again. He wondered if they would be boarding the metal contraption in front of them, and sorely hoped not. It was spewing acrid smoke from the rear and Hakuryuu could _smell_ the iron in its design. He would do it, if Judal asked him, but a quick glance at his host startled him.

 

Judal was looking at him thoughtfully, his lovely crimson eyes watching Hakuryuu’s face with rapt attention. Hakuryuu wondered if he’d made a face at the sight of the vehicle, or if something in his eyes was giving him away. ( Some part of him wondered if Judal was just drawn to looking at him, as enraptured by his eyes as he was by Judal’s. )

 

They stood there a moment, and then Judal looked away and led him straight past the vehicle and down the road again. Relief made Hakuryuu’s shoulders sag, Judal squeezed his hand.

 

They walked for a long time through the concrete jungle that was the city. Hakuryuu stuck close to Judal’s side, even when they finally released one another’s hands. Judal knew where he was going, but Hakuryuu got the sense that he wouldn’t usually walk to get there. It didn’t bother the prince much, he had walked tens of miles in a day before and was used to it, but his host was going out of his way for him.

 

He resolved to make something special for dinner to thank Judal for his efforts, even if he would inevitably deny he’d done any such thing.

 

Abruptly, Hakuryuu’s mind supplied several _other_ ways he could pay gratitude to his host. His hands wandering beneath the hem of Judal’s shirt, which always seemed to ride up over his stomach at least once during the day. He imagined discovering just how quickly that lovely flush from this morning could paint his cheeks. Such fair skin _had_ to be sensitive to touch, Hakuryuu was almost sure he could simply run his nails down the plane of his stomach and leave marks in his wake.

 

The prince’s steps faltered for a moment. The images flickered from his mind as quickly as they had come, leaving him somewhat stupefied. Oh he was used to thoughts of a carnal nature crossing his mind, especially around beautiful people like his host, but he’d gone so long without any he hadn’t expected them. The oath was meant to keep such things under wraps, and for a moment Hakuryuu’s heart seized as he frantically searched for the thread of magic still binding them together.

 

It was there, undulating between them to the natural sway of their heartbeats, just as strong a tether as when he had made his addendum to it. A feeling of undeserved relief passed through him as he lingered on it, allowing his senses to drift briefly along the length of the oath, feeling the strength of it holding firm.

 

Judal cast him a strange look out of the corner of his eye and Hakuryuu schooled his expression quickly. Reassured that his magic wasn’t breaking down, he allowed himself another moment to think critically about what had just gone on in his mind. It occurred to him, firstly, that his thoughts had been far from violent. The oath was doing as intended, making sure he wasn’t tempted to _harm_ Judal in any way. It was just that the things he’d just seen himself doing had been far from _harmful_.

 

Damn. Well, this was going to add a layer of difficulty to interacting with his host from now on. If his mind was going to drift in the direction of bare skin and stolen touches, he would have to find a way to anticipate them. Though in retrospect, he probably should have expected this. Hakuryuu couldn’t imagine _anyone_ looking at Judal without at least one unsavory thought crossing their minds.

 

If Judal thought that he had been behaving strangely he didn’t mention it, his attention drawn between the street in front of him and his phone. Hakuryuu saw something vaguely resembling a map on the screen, but from the way Judal was having to fiddle with it constantly he imagined his presence was messing with it somehow. They’d yet to find any solution to Hakuryuu’s problem with mortal technology, and according to Judal’s many forays into mortal lore, this was a common problem for fae.

 

Their destination revealed itself to be a strip of busy street where the concrete walls of the buildings lining either side had disappeared under the colorful banners of various shopfronts. The smell of smog became smothered under a hundred other scents that chose the exact same moment to assault Hakuryuu’s nose; street vendors took up residence every few feet pedaling a different kind of greasy food. The noise of the city had grown, the congregation of mortals milling about a vague cacophony behind the movement of cars going to and fro.

 

“Come on, Hakuryuu.”

 

Judal grabbed the hem of his borrowed shirt and led Hakuryuu through the crowd. No one looked at them twice, no one had since they left his apartment, and he had to ponder why there had yet to be a reaction to the fucking _sword_ Hakuryuu was wearing. He wasn’t complaining, mind you, because explaining to a police officer that a sword was kind of legal technically but not really didn’t seem like a good time to him.

 

“Just point where you wanna go. This is the shopping district so there’s a little of everything—I mean, not badass faerie armor, but just about everything else.”

 

Hakuryuu grimaced as they passed a window crammed with mannequins possessing exaggerated, cartoonish expressions.

 

“Nowhere like _that_.” he informed Judal. “Or _that_.”

 

Judal looked into the shop they were passing, trying to gauge Hakuryuu’s tastes. He grinned at his reflection as his eyes scoped over the scantily clad mannequins.

 

“You’re not going to make me go somewhere _boring_ , are you Hakuryuu?” he teased.

 

Hakuryuu bumped his elbow into Judal’s. He’d yet to make any sign of wanting his host to release the hem of his shirt, and so he hadn’t yet.

 

“I would never dream of taking you somewhere dull. It would be utterly wasteful of your vibrant personality.”

 

“Wow! No need for mockery, jeez.”

 

“I’m being quite serious, Judal.”

 

And that made the second time that day that Hakuryuu pinned Judal with his stare, his words the same kind of sharp roll as a whip crack. Judal was mortified to find he had the same reaction, tongue twisting itself into knots and heart leaping upwards towards his jugular. At least this time he’d like to think there was no blush to account for.

 

In the end, Hakuryuu selected a more upscale shop that Judal had only dipped into a handful of times. He’d treated himself to one or two things from the sale rack before, but for the most part he’d just wandered and admired, wondering if he’d ever have the luxury of wearing something with a price tag like this.

 

Despite knowing very little about mortal fashion, Hakuryuu had impeccable taste. He went straight for the finest materials and the sharpest cuts, and where Judal gravitated towards dark jeans and soft cotton tops, he had set his eyes immediately on the slacks and dress shirts. When a salesgirl approached them, Hakuryuu gave her the kind of polite dismissal that only affluent people seemed capable of, voice civil but cold.

 

“I am not certain,” Hakuryuu said once she had gone. “That any of these will fit properly.”

 

Judal abandoned the shirt he had been eyeing enviously on the rack and went to Hakuryuu’s side instead. The prince was frowning at a shirt he had unfolded, eyes critical.

 

“Well, look, that’s the size. Grab the one that looks the closest to what’ll fit you and then the ones above and below it and you can try them on.”

 

“You know it takes _considerably_ less time when the clothes are simply… made for you.”

 

“Couture is expensive. I hear rich people get all their shit tailored to fit right, but that’s out of my price range believe me.”

 

He pretended not to notice Hakuryuu scoping his eyes down his body, taking in the state of the clothes he wore. Not bad, they clung to the right places and felt comfortable enough, but definitely not accentuating his body the way something custom made would.

 

“And is this place, as you put it, _out of your price range_?”

 

Judal nudged Hakuryuu’s side and tossed him one of his cheeky smiles.

 

“Go try those on so we can figure out what size fits you best!” he said, avoiding the question altogether and pointing the prince in the direction of the changing rooms. A simple _no_ would have been much easier, and much more convincing. Judal spent a moment wondering why he didn’t just go with the white lie.

 

The last time Judal had gone shopping with someone else he had been eight, and it had been with a very tired foster mother in a thrift store whose racks were almost barren. There had been no changing room and her encouragements had been weary and lackluster, petering out altogether eventually. Judal could remember moving as quickly as he could to grab a handful of things within the budget she’d given him that _might_ fit. Half of them hadn’t, but he’d worn them for a year and a half anyway.

 

He had always considered the companionable shopping trips one saw on television to be idealized, as most things in media were, but he felt he might need to revise that opinion. Hakuryuu emerged from the changing room in a powder blue button up and a pair of grey slacks and cocked an eyebrow at Judal. It took him a moment to realize the prince was waiting on an opinion, and after a quick glance over him, Judal shook his head. Hakuryuu nodded and went back into the changing room.

 

After that, it was _exactly_ like something out of a television show. Hakuryuu changed with the swiftness of a man who was used to doing things at a moment’s notice, remerging every few minutes in something new. The pile of discarded clothes was far larger than the ones they both approved of.

 

When Hakuryuu was running out of things to try, Judal went darting around the shop snagging things off shelves and hangers and bringing them back to his stall. At first he tried to stay within the limits of Hakuryuu’s chosen style, but eventually he just started bringing things he wanted to see him in. A pair of jeans that had been artfully acid washed, a shirt with too-long sleeves that bunched around his wrists and dipped too low at the collar. Hakuryuu didn’t comment past an amused look, and indulged Judal’s curiosity every time.

 

They whittled their approved pile down to a selection of shirts and slacks ( Hakuryuu absolutely refused the jeans ) of different cuts and makes that seemed appropriate for most temperatures. Judal prodded Hakuryuu into also selecting a pair of shoes, and was surprised when he went for a pair of women’s ankle boots with short heels over the leather loafers to the left.

 

“Aren’t those kind of, I don’t know, impractical?”

 

“Not if one knows how to walk in them.” Hakuryuu had hummed, glancing the shoes over.

 

“It’s mostly girls who wear stuff like that, here.”

 

“Well what do you think more intimidating, a man who walks on the flats of his feet with ease, or a woman who can remain poised an extra three inches off the ground?”

 

Judal took the point, eyeing the shoes and wondering if he had the money for his own pair.

 

( Hakuryuu selected a pair from the shelf for him regardless and simply would not be dissuaded from seeing Judal with them on. They fit snugly, and though standing on heels was a little strange, the smile that curled Hakuryuu’s lips ensured Judal added them to their pile of purchases. )

 

They waited in line to pay, and it gave Judal a moment to consider Hakuryuu. When it was just the two of them, in his apartment, Hakuryuu had this easy slouch to his shoulders that suited the loose sweatpants and borrowed shirts he wore. He had started to look as if he _belonged_ in the apartment after just a few days of being there, as if the atmosphere of Judal’s home slotted into place around him and simply fit.

 

It stood to reason that standing there now, wearing more borrowed clothes with his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, he should have looked the same. And yet, Judal couldn’t help thinking him out of place. His shoulders were rolled back, his back straightened and expression one of muted indifference as he waited. Judal thought he looked comfortable in the upscale store, but with the way other people’s eyes passed briefly over the prince, he got the sense he was exuding a cold austerity Judal just didn’t feel.

 

Judal wondered what he looked like next to him, so _not_ whatever Hakuryuu _was_. He got his answer in the form of the clerk politely asking if they were separate or together, casting an unabashedly critical glance over Judal. He didn’t blame her, really, because Hakuryuu held himself like he was the most important person in the room, too important to even say so and instead just let people notice it.

 

A flicker of _something_ crossed Hakuryuu’s expression.

 

“We will be paying together.” he answered the clerk, voice a smooth drawl that rolled through the air too easily to be natural. Judal caught the faint flicker of magic in his tone and fought down the urge to smile.

 

He watched the clerk’s eyes go glassy. She smiled dreamily, nodding once before beginning to fold their things and tuck them into a bag. Her movements were fluid, too fluid for a normal person who even on their best day probably needed a half second between one action and the next. She just flowed from one piece of fabric to another, placing the shoeboxes in a larger bag side by side, and then handing all three over to Hakuryuu.

 

The prince took them, said thank you in a sharp voice as if cutting a thread, and then promptly turned on his heel to walk out. Judal followed him without question, the bag with their shoes in one hand, unable to fight the urge to glance around as they left. No store alarms went off, no one chased after them for not paying, and when they were halfway down the next street Judal _laughed_.

 

“And what was _that_ , may I ask?”

 

“Compulsion. Just a little bit, she wasn’t terribly resistant to suggestion to begin with.”

 

Judal let his eyes map over the expression on Hakuryuu’s face, his lips curved into a delighted smirk, eyes creased with nearly malicious amusement. The amorality should concern him.

 

“I could’ve paid, y’know.”

 

Neither of them addressed the earlier unanswered question of whether or not the shop was _out of his price-range_.

 

“I know,” Hakuryuu hummed. “But why do so when you could just as easily not?”

 

He offered his elbow to Judal, smiling when he linked their arms like he didn’t notice the flush rising up Judal’s neck again. The thought of lightly biting at the apple of his cheeks crossed his mind before he shooed it away.


	14. Insight the 2nd

When Hakuryuu had still been young enough not to know to hide the defiance in his eyes, Kouen had caught him doing a great number of ill-advised things. He had scolded him for each and every one of them, as older siblings are supposed to do, and over time it had strained their relationship a great deal more than he would have liked. He would never replace the brothers Hakuryuu had lost, this was something he had had to accept, but he could try to do as they would have done.

 

With maturity came civility, and Kouen had been relieved to say for some time now that he and Hakuryuu were on amicable terms. But they were not close. The tiny princeling who had dissolved into fits of giggles every time Kouen scooped him up in his fur cloak when he returned from the battlefield had disappeared long ago. They had never had the chance to rebuild what they could have been-- comrades, friends, brothers --and Kouen had always considered it a regret of his.

 

Hakuryuu continued to do ill-advised things long after he was old enough to mask his expressions and hide his intentions behind flowery words. Kouen gave up trying to stop him, because at some point it became obvious that Hakuryuu no longer needed a protector. Maybe he never had at all.

 

Among the ill-advised things Hakuryuu had done, Kouen considered his befriending a Seelie prince to be somewhere near the top of the list. He didn’t know where they had met, or how, or how long their friendship had lasted. They were close, sending letters and small gifts with enough frequency that Kouen recognized the messenger birds they rotated between. On more than one occasion, Hakuryuu snuck from the palace to go gallivanting with his Seelie companion, careful never to let him close enough that the Queen might catch wind of him.

 

The Seelie prince looked more or less exactly how Kouen had expected. He was the epitome of what the Seelie court embodied, all soft yellows and summer warmth. Flaxen hair hung over his shoulder in a wavy tail, and his skin was sunbaked. Sharply pointed ears were gilded in golden hoops, feathers hanging from his lobes, and his eyes the color of molten gold. He had the allure of a sweltering day about him, and warmth exuded from his body as if he were a fragment of the sun itself.

 

He rose from where he had perched himself when Kouen dismounted, standing to his full height and rolling his shoulders back. Kouen took only a few steps forward before halting, allowing the fae to size him up without further encroaching on his space.

 

Kouen embodied the UnSeelie court as much as the prince before him embodied Seelie. His dark clothes accentuated the cool paleness of his skin, and his crimson hair was a nearly violent splash of color on an otherwise monochrome palette. The air around him spoke of chilled breaths and the stillness of nighttime, each step calculated, every movement intentional.

 

The two stood there a long while, eyeing each other carefully, hands on the hilts of their swords.

 

“…Of all the people I expected to come looking for Hakuryuu,” the golden prince said into the silence. “You were not among them.”

 

“Is it that difficult to think I may worry for my own flesh and blood?”

 

“You’ve never been close. The way Hakuryuu always put it, you didn’t see eye to eye.”

 

“In retrospect, I’ve begun to realize this may have been because I was still looking at where he had been, and not where he had grown to be.”

 

The prince considered him thoughtfully. It was refreshing to see someone take his words to heart the first time he said them rather than having to reiterate himself to be believed. UnSeelie were suspicious creatures by nature, always careful of deception, where Seelie seemed much more willing to trust first and avenge themselves later.

 

“Alibaba,” the prince introduced finally, inclining his head. “Prince under King Sinbad of the Seelie Court.”

 

Kouen cocked a brow, though he inclined his head in return.

 

“I hadn’t expected Sinbad to allow his name to be dragged into this. Rebellions are not likely to reflect well on your Queen.”

 

“Did I mention my Queen?”

 

There was a mischievous glitter in the prince’s eye, the kind Kouen associated with a faerie about to play a very malicious prank.

 

“I suppose you did not.” he acquiesced carefully.

 

The amusement did not leave the prince’s eyes and Kouen was forced to combat the instinct to be immediately wary. They were here with the same goal, it would not due to be on edge around each other constantly. Alibaba cocked his head a fraction to the side, and Kouen took this to be an invitation to speak first.

 

“Was the Seelie court involved in the Prince’s disappearance?” he asked, his words laced with magic that curled itself into the air.

 

“No.” Alibaba answered without hesitation, his reply braiding itself around Kouen’s. The magic formed a brief bond between them, a compulsion to reply, and their natural honesty took care of the rest. “Are you a spy sent by the UnSeelie Queen?”

 

“No, I am not. Have you been with the Prince this whole time?”

 

“Not all of it, but enough. How much do you know about what’s happened?”

 

“Only enough to suspect I will be returning home with a corpse.”

 

Alibaba smiled, which would have been enough to mesmerize a more foolish man.

 

“If it were anyone else we were speaking of,” he said. “I wouldn’t disagree. But Hakuryuu has a nasty habit of surviving things he shouldn’t; I think we both know that.”

 

“You do not think him dead, then?”

 

“I think it would be a bad idea to make assumptions without gathering all the facts. Walk with me?”

 

Kouen gestured for the Seelie fae to lead the way, falling into step beside him. It was difficult to gauge the actual distance they walked, for Sidhe was not a singular plane of existence as the mortal realm was. It twisted and undulated itself, its rivers and valleys listened to the yearnings of the heart and paths could tell when one knew their destinations. However far they went, it wasn’t long before they came upon a scene of destruction.

 

Even in ruins, Kouen could recognize a semi-permanent campsite when he saw one. He had been to battle enough times to recognize the layout of the place, from where the sleeping tents would have been to where the food was made and the guard outposts. It was little more than cinders and broken fragments of wood and foliage now, but he could imagine it when it hadn’t been. At least fifty people could have lived there somewhat comfortably, with room for others to come and go.

 

“Our camp was attacked,” Alibaba said unnecessarily. “UnSeelie forces were on us before we knew what was happening. We didn’t have time to do much other than evacuate a few people and fight for our lives.”

 

“Hakuryuu was there?”

 

“A lot more of our comrades would have died if he hadn’t been.”

 

Alibaba led them around the perimeter of the desolated camp, tracing Hakuryuu’s footsteps from his memories of the battle. The charred remains of a polearm lay in splinters on the ground. Kouen told himself it could belong to any of the rebels. He knew better.

 

“…Last I saw, he was running off that way.” Alibaba said, pointing away from the camp towards a frost tipped mountain. It didn’t look like it belonged beside the lush swamp they were bordering now, but that wasn’t uncommon for Sidhe topography. “He’d gotten the attention of at least a few of the enemy and led them off. He never came back.”

 

Kouen noted all this in stony silence, the image of his cousin darting from battle, pursued by the enemy playing out in his mind. That was just like Hakuryuu. For all his biting words and austere personality, he had never been the kind of man to let his comrades die in front of him. Even if it meant putting himself in harm’s way, he always at least _tried_ to lessen the number of casualties.

 

As if reading his mind, Alibaba smiled ruefully, his brow knitted into a pained frown.

 

“I was gonna yell at him,” he mused aloud. “Tell him he was an _idiot_ for running off on his own like that.”

 

“He wouldn’t have listened to you.”

 

“Nah, don’t expect he would have.”

 

The longer he gazed at the mountain, the more a prickling sense of unease settled into Kouen’s bones. Something drew him towards it, not in the way ancient magic intent on bewitching him might, but like instinct was pointing wildly in that direction.

 

“What is it,” he asked, though he suspected he knew the answer. “That makes you think he is alive up there?”

 

“Call it a gut feeling.”

 

“And do you often obey your gut?”

 

“I’d be dead twenty times over by now if I didn’t, Lord Kouen.”

 

The UnSeelie Lord nodded sharply, and without further contemplation the two fae whistled for their mounts, and set off towards the mountain.

 

The silence as they rode was neither companionable nor tense, just a blanket between them that kept them both quiet. Kouen did his best not to allow his mind to wander or his heart to feel any semblance of hope. Their journey up this mountain could result just as he expected, with a frozen corpse he would have to carry home, or amount to nothing at all.

 

It was only easy to keep his expectations so low because he forced himself to. Because he could remember the last time he _hoped_ for anyone in his family, and the utter devastation when that hope had been crushed. He wondered what Hakuyuu and Hakuren would have said to him now, as he led his mount carefully through the twisted path of the mountain, perhaps to find their brother’s body.

 

The disappointment he could envision on their faces only spurned him forward, his eyes burning with cold fire.

 

Alibaba led the way, following the trail pocked with broken twigs and dislodged piles of dirt. As they went higher, snow began to feather the ground, and Kouen took the lead in tracking where Hakuryuu and his assailants may have gone. The Seelie fae hadn’t dressed for the cold, and so his body compensated by exuding more heat. Kouen had him hang back because of it, just in case it was enough to melt the fallen snow and ruin the already faded trail they followed.

 

The trail led them up, until the paths narrowed enough they had to leave their mounts and continue on foot. Alibaba stayed at least five paces behind, making a great effort to draw his body heat inwards so as to disturb as little of the path as possible, should they need to return and start again. It would have concerned Kouen more, had the prickle in his bones not grown to needles jabbing into his nerves the farther down this trail he plunged.

 

They emerged out into something of a stone clearing, and here things became far more visible, even beneath the fresh snow. There had been a struggle of some kind, however brief. A myriad of footfalls had left impressions in the dirt, and the paths extending away from the clearing were in the same condition. No corpses or discarded weapons were visible, and if there had been blood the snow had covered it, but it didn’t matter.

 

Kouen’s eyes had fallen on something out of place, something that made his heart want to beat a war cry against his ribs. From beneath the snow, there was a sapling emerging, which on its own would not have been unique, were it not for the fact that nothing else seemed to grow on the mountain. It was too young to bear flower or fruit, but it had begun to grow gently sloping branches and crisp leaves that stood out against its sullen backdrop.

 

Alibaba had noticed it too, and drew in a breath.

 

“Is that—“

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you think it’s—?”

 

“It is too small to be a body.” Saying it aloud reassured Kouen as much as it did Alibaba. “But it is a piece of him, whatever it was.”

 

A fae’s body always returned to the earth from whence it had come. It sunk into the soil and transformed, became a new life that grew and flourished once again. Trees, bushes, brooks, ponds, even some lakes and mountains, had been born of the corpses of fallen fae. Their power in life became their existence in death, and the sapling growing there was unmistakable to Kouen. It was a piece of Hakuryuu, though which piece, he could not say.

 

Alibaba twisted his head, tilting his nose to the air and breathing in. He frowned, stepping further into the clearing and sniffing the air. Kouen approached the sapling with dread pooling in his stomach; it was almost worse than finding a body.

 

“Do you smell that?” Alibaba asked suddenly, drawing his attention from the remains.

 

Kouen paused, then breathed in deeply. The cold hair settled into his senses, and then all at once he knew exactly what Alibaba was talking about.

 

“ _Iron_.”

 

The sting of it hung in the air, burning an acrid trail in the Sidhe atmosphere. The scent was no longer strong enough to provoke the urge to gag, but it made both fae wrinkle their noses and take a step closer together, merely by instinct.

 

“Why in the name of the sun is there _iron_ this deep in Sidhe? Maybe on the outer borders where the ogres do their trading, but here?”

 

“Someone had to have brought it.”

 

“Why, though?”

 

“I suspect, for Hakuryuu.”

 

Kouen swept around in a circle, his calculating eyes taking in everything at once. An image was beginning to form in his mind of a fight that he had never witnessed.

 

“Hakuryuu is a more than able fighter. Even here, he would have felled at great number of his enemies before falling himself, if he fell at all. The numbers who were here, it speaks to someone well aware of what he’s capable of.”

 

“You think the raid wasn’t about us at all, it was meant to draw out Hakuryuu.”

 

“With all due respect, Alibaba, you and your rebellion are barely a murmur in the UnSeelie court. This much attention would not be paid to you under normal circumstances.”

 

“If that’s the case,” Alibaba said. “Then why aren’t there any bodies? They went to all the trouble of luring him up here, presumably to use some sort of iron weapon on him, and yet--?”

 

He gestured to the sapling.

 

He wasn’t wrong, either. There were a great many ways things could have gone during this alleged fight, and no matter how many ways Kouen considered it the lack of corpses was obvious. If they hadn’t used the iron immediately, then Hakuryuu could have taken out at least a handful of his assailants. If they _had_ used it immediately, then Hakuryuu ought to be dead. No one used iron to simply _capture_ someone.

 

Which left the only possible explanation; that Hakuryuu had escaped somehow. The problem was that Kouen couldn’t fathom _how_ his cousin had managed to do so. The pathways were all blocked, and the only way up was a sheer rock face that would have been too difficult to climb in the spur of the moment.

 

Alibaba, who had been trailing around the clearing looking for the same answers as Kouen, suddenly halted. He stood where he was for a moment, his eyes going glassy as he let his senses fall silent and the magic take control. The air grew warmer as he reached out, through the flow of magic around them, bouncing slowly on his toes.

 

“Lord Kouen,” he said, his voice sounding distant. “Come here.”

 

Kouen obliged, stopping in front of the prince.

 

“What do you feel? Here, just where I’m standing.”

 

Curiosity had never been Kouen’s vice, and so he simply mirrored the smaller fae before him, letting himself slip into the magic about them.

 

It was cold at first, the icy mountain welcoming him with crystalline whispers that shivered past his ear. All the magic here was similar, jagged and biting, without any vibrancy of life or warmth to it at all. A small patch to his left was different, the air around it a twisting network of warm blue that he knew was Hakuryuu.

 

Kouen pushed himself deeper into the flow, feeling his way towards where his body stood, skipping over the blinding heat of the Seelie fae and reaching into the space between them. At first, he thought he had somehow missed and ended up outside of the flow by mistake. He could feel nothing here, no magic at all, and then it dawned on him. The flow had not disappeared, but had instead been cut sharply down the middle, so that a blank fissure lay in the middle of everything.

 

Still not daring to hope, Kouen traced around the edges of it, feeling the faded words that made up the spell that had torn its way through Sidhe itself. Soft blue still lingered in every murmur.

 

“A gateway.” Kouen exhaled, coming back to himself in a rush.

 

Alibaba had returned as well, blinking his eyes back into focus.

 

“He tore a hole, right here, but not to another part of Sidhe…”

 

A deafening pause fell between them, neither willing to say what came to mind. Alibaba pushed both hands into his golden hair, shoving it back from his forehead.

 

“ _Hel and everything below_ ,” he breathed. “He’s in the mortal realm. That absolute _lunatic_.”

 

“He must have felt he had no choice.” Kouen said gravely, pointedly ignoring how his hand had found its way to the hilt of his sword and gripped tight enough it hurt.

 

“I know, I know! But that’s— _Sun_ , that’s madness! How’s he expecting to get back?! If he’s injured, if iron’s involved—“

 

“Either he is laying low, or he _cannot_ return. What is wisest now is not to panic, and to proceed under the assumption that, however impossible it may seem, Hakuryuu is _alive_.”

 

Alibaba carded his hands through his hair, gnawing the inside of his cheek as he thought.

 

“We have to get him. He would have sent some kind of word by now if he could, right? Something must have happened.”

 

Kouen nodded brusquely, his mind already churning too many ideas at once to follow. If Hakuryuu was alive, then this changed things.

 

“Sending fae to the mortal realm en masse is a spell for disaster,” he said. “And I cannot go myself, my lack of presence would be questioned too much by the Queen. Can you reach anyone who may be of use to us now, Alibaba?”

 

The prince continued to bite his cheek, toying with his bangs. His youthful face was pulled into a grim expression, somewhere between distaste and indecision.

 

“…Yeah.” he said, finally. “I can reach out to King Sinbad and see if he’s willing to send anyone after Hakuryuu. He’s backing the rebellion, so I don’t see why he wouldn’t…”

 

“Good, then I suggest you make contact. Quickly.”

 

Kouen turned on his heel, marching back the way they had come, his cloak billowing behind him with the swiftness he moved. Alibaba watched him go, making no motion to follow.

 

“Where are you going?” he called after the lord’s retreating back.

 

Kouen turned his head just enough Alibaba could see the vicious curl of his mouth, showing off dangerous incisors in a violent rendition of a smile.

 

“I am going to inform my siblings that we’ve just joined a rebellion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, more characters are beginning to get involved. Alibaba's going to play an important role in the story going forward, so pay attention to him too everyone!


	15. Chapter 12

Even after their first outing, Hakuryuu did not venture from within the threshold often, and never by himself. Though he knew that Judal offered no protection on his own, it felt more comfortable to step out from under the shield of his abode with him by his side. A small tick of paranoia had begun in the back of Hakuryuu’s mind, and some days when he walked with Judal it was not for his own sake, but to quell the idea that at any moment something was going to come leaping from the shadows at his host.

 

Their time out of the apartment seemed to ease some of Judal’s worries, though, so it was worth the paranoid whispers of his mind. They never ate, or strayed very far from the apartment, but they walked far enough that Hakuryuu could map the neighborhood in his mind.

 

Sometimes people would wave at Judal, old men from the front steps of buildings and single mothers corralling toddlers with armfuls of groceries. Judal never offered explanations for how he knew them, or if he did at all, but he answered their greetings in kind.

 

Hakuryuu watched Judal, during these moments, with the same kind of intent he observed enemy generals on the battlefield. He tried to catch every twitch in expression and shift of his eyes, picking apart his body language into letters and words. The old man made his shoulders relax and his eyes grow mischievous, the mother brought a smile to his lips and a lonely fondness into his gaze. Each told a story that Hakuryuu could only grasp the concept of without asking, but that was enough for him.

 

Things became a routine in the loosest sense of the word. Times and dates were never set, but there was a kind of cycle to how they lived together. A comfortable synchronicity that Hakuryuu couldn’t recall experiencing with anyone else. Thoughts of where he should be ( back in Sidhe ) and why he wasn’t there ( because of Judal ) trickled from his mind as the days went on.

 

Hakuryuu finally stopped feeling restless.

 

Other things began to fill the space in his thoughts where his restlessness had been before. The schedule for the farmer’s market over by the park, which vendors were to be avoided and which were so hardworking they deserved a little spark of faerie luck when he could spare it. When Judal’s neighbors had taken to spending time in the courtyard, the exact number of steps down to the front door, which of his button down shirts Judal seemed to like best.

 

( A drawer had been cleared in Judal’s dresser, and Hakuryuu’s clothes sat neatly folded inside it. )

 

And of course, more thoughts of Judal. Stars, there was never a time his mind seemed to be devoid of those, even in his most focused moments. Hakuryuu had grown accustomed to the brief flashes of imagined lust, though they were nothing if not unpredictable. He searched longingly for a pattern to their appearance, trying to tamp down on them as best he could, but there simply wasn’t one. Judal existed, he lived and breathed in the same space as the faerie prince, and so his mind wanted him, as plain as that.

 

It was the littlest things, sometimes. How Judal tipped his head back to stare up into the boughs of the mulberry tree, the sunlight dappling his skin. When he stretched and his back would arch, shirt slipping up over his toned stomach, giving Hakuryuu a long few moments to stare at his untouched skin. The soft flush he had after a hot shower, the way he toyed with his hair in the mornings, the way he walked.

 

Judal, Hakuryuu had come to realize, was _beautiful_.

 

Of course it was impossible not to have known this from the beginning. He’d seen his beauty the moment he’d opened his eyes for the first time in the mortal realm. But there was a difference between beauty and being _beautiful_ , at least in Hakuryuu’s eyes. Beauty was a passing thing, a fleeting brilliance that could just as easily be attained as dismissed. All fae had beauty to them, and there were plenty he had taken to bed over the long years of his life because of it, but many more he’d simply glossed over. Beauty was easy to grow tired of, when you’d seen enough of it.

 

To be _beautiful_ was another thing entirely. He had met few truly beautiful people in his life, and the quality was one that was difficult to describe. Some of it was in appearances, of course, but it was deeper and more profound than that. If Hakuryuu had to give it a name, he’d call it more a _sense_ than a tangible thing. Certain people, and you could never be sure who, were just _beautiful_ in a way that could not be articulated in any language one chose to speak.

 

Hakuryuu had never found another being to be as distractingly lovely as he did Judal.

 

The mornings when he ambled out of his room, still yawning and drowsy-eyed, were an exercise in self-control. Judal seemed to have no idea the kind of lazy elegance he had in the hours just after waking, when his movements were all slow and drifting. Hakuryuu had to make himself busy, cooking breakfast or tending to his latest project, so he was no longer tempted to sit there and simply watch Judal for hours. He had a yearning to hold his host, his hands on his belly, and feel his steady breathing when he was still too sleepy to be conscious of it.

 

Hasty mornings were almost worse. Days where Judal forgot the time and had to go bolting out of the apartment without much more than a farewell left Hakuryuu too much time to dwell on details. Judal’s slender fingers dragging through his hair to comb it, how his shoulders moved as he shrugged on a shirt on his way to the bathroom. The loose belt around his hips, the crumbs at the corner of his mouth from his quickly eaten breakfast. He moved with erratic efficiency, always out the door with everything he needed, whether he meant it or not.

 

Judal never ignored him, no matter how quickly he moved. There was always a spare moment to tell Hakuryuu _good morning_ , and another to say _I’ll be back later, have a good day!_ Some days Judal would stop moving, stand there and hold a conversation like time wasn’t against him, until he finally shook himself back into action. The attention made Hakuryuu’s chest swell with something too hot to be simple pride.

 

At first Hakuryuu found himself lying awake at night, wondering if it was all in his head. Judal, a _mortal_ , could not be nearly as enrapturing as he was making him out to be. He tried to find flaws in his own fantasies, dissecting them down to the minutest detail in an attempt to disillusion himself. But there was no illusion to be found. The things Judal did had come to fascinate him—and he was fascinated, as only a man enamored could be.

 

Hours spent in the courtyard became painfully precious to him. To see Judal walk among his creations, trailing his fingertips over the petals and leaves as gently as a whisper, made his pulse thrum in his veins. As time in the mortal realm wore on, Judal’s workload increased, and Hakuryuu began to notice him wander down to the courtyard in the dead of night. He grew nocturnal flowers, the kind the bloomed by moonlight, and watched from the window as Judal gasped with delight at the sight of them.

 

Mundane activities had always been his bane, indeed one could safely say _any_ fae loathed to deal in dullness. The mortal realm held none of the distractions or excitements of Sidhe, but it had Judal. This alone redeemed every single one of its failings, in Hakuryuu’s opinion. Hours could pass in idleness if only he could watch Judal as he moved about his apartment, unconscious of his own alluring presence.

 

It had been years, _centuries_ , since such an innocent feeling had consumed Hakuryuu’s thoughts. The chastity of it startled him, not because he thought himself incapable of it, but because such things had left him in his youth. His heart had never frozen, he would never give his mother the satisfaction of robbing him of it. But it had grown cold over time, held tightly in his ribs where few were brave enough to seek it.

 

And yet, Judal had brought warmth to his chest that he had been convinced he knew how to live without. One, simple mortal, unremarkable and yet _incredible_ , had done what no fae could. And he had no idea. Just by living as himself, he had altered the course of Hakuryuu’s entire life.

 

At night, as moon’s movements echoed in his mind, he prayed to the stars that it would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, and here it is, the moment when I confirm what many of you dear readers have been suspecting; Hakuryuu's falling head over heels for Judal. As we move forward into the meat of the story and I begin to unravel the plot that will lead into the second arc, I think these littler, softer chapters are important. Brief respites that just indulge in the romantic. 
> 
> That being said, this _is_ a very small chapter. But not to worry! For there will be a second update coming **this Thursday**! Keep an eye out everyone!


	16. Insight the 3rd

Fae stepped hastily aside as Ithnan strode through the halls of the UnSeelie palace, cloak billowing from his shoulders. Heads were bowed reverently to the Queen’s favorite knight, but not as many as the fae who scuttled fearfully into the shadows at his approach. Ithnan gave none of them a second glance, but privately reveled in the ability to send lesser fae scrambling from his path. It was a small show of his power, yes, but a show of power nonetheless.

 

Being back in the palace meant far more dull activities than when he was sent on the hunt with his soldiers. He preferred it out there, on the back of a beast chasing down whatever unfortunate soul had crossed his Queen. The rush of blood in his ears, the howling in his chest, only ever silenced by lilac blood staining his skin. He was a vicious creature beneath his composed exterior.

 

However, being within the palace meant he had to display a certain level of civility. So long as he was here, he was bound to a certain code of conduct made only bearable by the chance to be in his Queen’s presence. He was on his way, now, to stand at her side as she held court.

 

He turned sharply on his heel, touching his fingers to a certain stone and stepping into the quiet passageway that revealed itself when he did. It was a long, thin hall with no windows. Most fae who knew of its existence avoided it for the claustrophobic feeling it gave them, but he walked through it carelessly. Halfway down the hall there was a tiny alcove, and squeezed into it now was a broad fae with a curling mustache and ill-fitting eyes.

 

They bulged slightly from his head when he saw Ithnan, and he stooped himself into as much of a bow as the hall would allow him. Ithnan dismissed him with a derisive wave of his hand.

 

“Guzol,” he said sharply. “What news do you bring me? Speak swiftly, I am wanted by the Queen.”

 

“Of course, Master Ithnan, of course, I would never dare to keep you waiting, of course.”

 

Ithnan openly grimaced at the groveling fae, not concerned with whether or not he saw him. Guzol’s words slithered from his mouth like fat slugs, and any expression he tried to make only contorted his ugly face further. He was not a pleasant creature to behold, covered in thick, misshapen skin as he was. He was loyal, though, and obedient, so Ithnan kept him around.

 

“Stand straight, Guzol, for the star’s sake. This hallway isn’t big enough for your pathetic attempts at respect.”

 

Guzol did as told as quickly as he could, squirming himself back up to his full height. He seemed to adjust his skin slightly, smacking his lips before speaking.

 

“Many moons have passed in the mortal realm, Master, yes, many, many moons.” Guzol said, nodding his head. “Those you sent after the prince have become troubled, they are not sure how time is passing, or if it is at all, some say they’ve aged a year and a day—“

 

“I don’t give a _damn_ about their complaints.” Ithnan snarled. “ _The prince_. What news of the _prince_ you fool?!”

 

“I was getting to that part, I promise you Master Ithnan! Now let me see, where was I… Yes, yes! Many moons have passed in the mortal realm, very many, we were sure the prince was lost forever but we continued searching as the Master asked.”

 

“And?”

 

“And he revealed himself, Master.”

 

“He’s _alive_?!”

 

“He is!”

 

Ithnan swore colorfully, baring jagged teeth at the air. The urge to gut something—Guzol, because he was closest --was _overwhelming_. He resisted, he was far too old and well-mannered to be giving in to such primal urges as that, but _stars_ did he want to.

 

When he had returned from his excursion to the southern border, he had made a report to the Queen, as he always did. Over the years he had perfected the art of augmenting his tales without outright lying, twisting his way around the faerie compulsion of honesty with ease. Of course, this had only ever been used to embellish his stories and make himself seem grander to impress and delight the Queen, never to deceive her.

 

As he had given his latest report, Ithnan had been excruciatingly aware of how close he came to _lying_. His words had burned his tongue and scratched jagged claws at the inside of his throat as he spoke them, to the point he almost tasted blood. The presence of the Queen had worsened the effects the half-truths had on him, but he had managed to keep his voice steady.

 

He and his men had attacked the rebel camp in the pitch of night, taking advantage of waning moon to strike when the prince would be unawares, his powers weakened. Ithnan had presumed that he would emerge without casualties, but the rebels had proved a more sophisticated bunch than he had anticipated. They weren’t his target, though, and so not his main concern.

 

The prince had been driven into the nearby mountains, segregated from the swamp where he and his unsettling magic would have been at its strongest. Everything had gone according to plan. The ambush, the iron bolt that had been carefully crafted to slip through the thin slit in faerie armor. Ithnan omitted the bit about toying with the ailing prince, cleaving his arm from elbow down. Whether she wanted him dead or not, he was still the Queen’s favorite child, and Ithnan didn’t think she would appreciate that.

 

This was when everything had gone to shit. Ithnan had made the mistake of underestimating the prince’s power, and his desperation. It was easy to think of him as the youngest of his family, the smallest, but he was still a child of the King and Queen of UnSeelie. Magic flowed through his veins where blood was meant to be, and until they were deep into Seelie territory, the very earth beneath his feet loved him.

 

An attack would have been one thing. A desperate cry to the elder fae of the land would have been valiant, maybe even worth a respectful death. However of all the things Ithnan had expected the little shit to pull, opening a gateway into the mortal realm just hadn’t been one of them. It opened, swallowed the prince, and then shut again before any of the stunned attackers had had the chance to recover. By the time Ithnan was lurching forward, the gateway had already sealed itself shut.

 

And so came the half-truths that spilled acidic from his lips as he spoke to the Queen. Everything had been said _very_ carefully, his white lies just subtle enough that they weren’t technically lies at all. The Queen had shed a few matronly tears for her child, just three, and allowed Ithnan to pat her hand consolingly. It appeared as though his deceit had gone unnoticed.

 

Yet, he could not shake his paranoia. One did not attempt to deceive a faerie Queen lightly, even the most pompous mortals were hesitant to press their luck. Ithnan could have been honest, naturally, but the Queen did not take well to failure. The fear of her was augmented only by an equal fear of entering the mortal realm, which she surely would have ordered him to do if he had been truthful.

 

The easiest way to put this whole mess to rest was to just be sure the prince was dead. There had seemed to be little chance he would survive, crippled and bleeding in the _mortal_ realm of all places, and yet…

 

Ithnan ground his teeth, flexing his powerful fingers as if they were around someone’s throat. Guzol stood stock still, barely breathing, until the tension eased out of the knight’s shoulders and he drew himself up slightly. Ithnan regained his composure smoothly, as if donning a mask.

 

“Order the scouts recalled from the mortal realm.” he said.

 

“Recalled, Master Ithnan?”

 

“Yes, they’ve done as much as they can for now. Have them map their routes back to Sidhe and compile a map to the prince’s current location, or locations.”

 

Guzol’s face twisted into something that might have resembled worry if one squinted.

 

“Yes Master, of course, of course, but…”

 

“Then,” Ithnan went on, interrupting Guzol before he could continue. “I want you to assemble those under me most skilled in quickly, and quietly, eliminating their prey. If there aren’t enough of them then go to the borders and contract whoever is foolish enough to go, see if there’s a goblin or two who’s crossed over to their realm before.”

 

“And then, Master…?”

 

Ithnan cast his servant a withering gaze.

 

“And then you send them to the mortal realm with instructions to bring me the prince’s head or die trying.”

 

Guzol’s misshapen skin paled considerably, and for a moment he stood there, opening and closing his fat mouth. Graciously, Ithnan allowed him a few moments to gape before scowling.

 

“ _NOW!_ ” he barked, and Guzol jumped and nodded his head hastily before hurrying away.

 

Ithnan waited for his servant to leave the hall, smoothing both hands down the front of his tunic. He did miss his armor, perhaps he would wear it tomorrow…

 

Oh, he didn’t blame Guzol for his fearful reaction. No fae in their right mind had any desire to set foot in the mortal realm. Their world was toxic to fae, some simply choked to death on their air before setting even a foot through the pathway they’d opened between worlds. Ithnan, surely, had no desire to go there.

 

Still, sacrifices must be made for the sake of the Queen, he told himself. She wanted the prince dead, and surely he would be weakened in the mortal realm, probably still hobbled by the injuries Ithnan had given him. How he had survived at all was a mystery, but it didn’t matter. Soon he would be dead, and then Ithnan’s half-truths would no longer be heavy with deceit and all would be well.

 

Ithnan straightened himself compulsively, assuring he looked as cleanly put together as possible before walking briskly down the hall. He exited through the door at the other end and turned sharply, frightening a maid with his sudden appearance, and continued his way towards the throne room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know going from that sweet chapter to Ithnan is an unpleasant shift, but let me reassure you we're back to Judal and Hakuryuu next chapter. I think I can safely call this chapter about the halfway point of the first arc of the story, so thank you everyone for sticking with me!
> 
> Additionally; the **Graphic Depictions of Violence** tag has been added, as well as **Ithnan** , and **Alibaba Salujah** has been here for a bit, but I forgot to mention.


	17. Chapter 13

The noise of the city streets had become distant again, muffled under a thick layer of magic shifting through the air. Streetlamps wavered, dimming and brightening in quick succession, casting eerie, inconsistent shadows. The gate to the courtyard stood open, a passageway through which the outside world was all too easily accessible.

 

A tall figure loomed in the doorway, stock still and staring. Hakuryuu stared back.

 

Inevitably, the creeping shadow of Sidhe had reached him. Those idle days in the company of his host had been a pleasant respite, made all the more precious by the knowledge they couldn’t last. Hakuryuu had known, from the moment he set foot outside the threshold, that he was inviting his enemies to his door. And they had come, hovering just close enough he could smell them until the sun fell from the sky.

 

Night was the time of UnSeelie fae. In the darkness they were unmatched, the unseen quiet was their domain. Even if it had not been, no fae was foolish enough to wage war in the middle of a mortal street under their blistering sun.

 

Judal had been on edge that evening. He spoke of feeling watched as he came home, as if eyes passed over him constantly, combing across him, trying to peel away his skin. Hakuryuu cooked a light dinner and ushered him to bed early. Before he left the apartment, he pressed his fingers to his host’s door and whispered wards into the wood. Just in case.

 

Now he stood there, at the far end of the courtyard he had filled to burst with greenery, staring into sunken eyes. Neither fae seemed willing to move first.

 

For a moment, Hakuryuu considered not engaging at all. He could go back inside and go to sleep, for weak or not, no fae would challenge him after passing through a threshold. That he was past one himself either meant he was a prisoner or a guest, and both were equally dangerous.

 

He could wake Judal and tell him that they could no longer leave the building or the courtyard, promise him food from the garden and his own company as compensation. Or he could let him sleep. And sleep and sleep, until time enough had passed that fae had grown bored of watching outside the building and left him for dead. Judal would hate both these options, of course, and even if he wouldn’t Hakuryuu had never been one to run and hide.

 

Bare feet made no sound as he crossed the length of the courtyard in brisk strides. He had not bothered with his armor, concerned the sound of it would wake Judal and make him question where Hakuryuu was going. His sword rested at his hip, the belt digging into his waist in a way he wasn’t used to. The thin cloth of his t-shirt did little to buffer the weight of it, but it was comforting, in a way.

 

The fae at the gate did not move and Hakuryuu stopped just short of it. They were almost toe to toe, an invisible barrier between them that neither had any desire to cross. Hakuryuu looked up into the tall creature’s face.

 

Up close, he could tell it was a yaksha. They were a strange race, existing in a stark dichotomy of benevolent and malicious only, with no in-between. The yaksha he had met before were lovely creatures, tall and kind-faced, though their features sometimes stretched and twisted unnaturally. These were the benevolent ones, who dwelt in thick woods and steep mountains, always stooping curiously to look at him as the earth responded to his presence.

 

This was quite obviously not one of those. Hakuryuu could smell rotting flesh on its breath, and its eyes were bloodshot, as if it never blinked. The yaksha had swaddled itself in too many layers of tattered cloth, most of it stained with wine colored blood, no doubt plucked from its many victims.

 

It made sense that a yaksha would be the first to find him, in a way. The malicious ones liked to wander through crossroads and waylays, searching for weary travelers to bleed dry and eat. Desperate ones would huddle at the roadside in their tattered cloth garb and pretend to be an elderly beggar, but only small and foolish fae fell for that.

 

Hakuryuu was neither small, nor foolish, and this yaksha was not bothering with pretenses. It towered over him, still as death and staring at him with eyes hungry for flesh and blood. He tilted his head, just slightly, and watched its eyes follow him.

 

“Allow me to step outside,” he instructed. “As I doubt you dare to step in.”

 

The yaksha’s eyes widened further, so they were now covering at least half its face. Nonetheless it stepped aside, sweeping one elongated arm out in a gesture of offering. It looked little like its kinder counterparts, but it still held a measure of respect and honor to it.

 

The courtyard seemed to shift and whisper, every plant its own voice. Hakuryuu understood them, acknowledged the boughs of the trees stretched out for him and the vines slithering to the concrete. He wanted to remain within the yard, within the threshold, but his time for hiding was over.

 

It may have been his imagination, but it felt as though the threshold clung to him as he stepped outside, unwilling to let him go. His fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword as the urge to turn his head and look up at the window to Judal’s apartment almost overwhelmed him. He did not allow himself to do so. There was a chance that the yaksha, and whatever companions it had, were unaware of Judal’s involvement.

 

And besides, it was not as if he would never return. He would finish this creature, and then return to his host’s side. Judal would be none the wiser.

 

The two fae paced to the center of the road, keeping a steady distance between themselves. The yards separating them would mean very little soon enough. While he could, Hakuryuu took stock of his surroundings, well aware that his familiarity with them would give him the advantage.

 

Even in the daytime, it was not an exceptionally busy roadway, but the sheer emptiness of it was conspicuous now. Magic sparked in the air, fizzling and hissing as it fed on the mounting tension between the two opponents. Even the densest mortal would be unable to bring themselves to walk down this street. Their subconscious would be screaming at them to turn around, that _something_ was wrong here.

 

This suited them both, though Hakuryuu was sure the yaksha cared little about excess casualties. There was no sense in drawing attention to themselves, mortal or otherwise. Especially when Hakuryuu was meant to already be dead; he doubted the yaksha wanted to share its would-be prize.

 

“A moment of your time?” Hakuryuu asked.

 

The cool, gentlemanly tone he used was familiar to him. His tongue remembered how to shape his words around this cadence easily, as if it had not been what felt like a lifetime since he used it. It was the tone of the battlefield, unruffled and serene.

 

The yaksha tilted its head at a sharp angle, thoughtful, then nodded.

 

“Is the Queen’s knight the one who sent you?”

 

Beneath the cloth wrapped around its head, the yaksha’s mouth opened. It made a dent in the fabric, pressing back against a row of far too many teeth.

 

“Does it matter truly if it was, o prince?” the yaksha questioned in an unsettlingly soothing voice. “He is not the only one who wishes you dead, you know.”

 

“Oh, I am aware. However, he _is_ the only one who ought to know I am alive.”

 

Something like a grimace passed over the yaksha’s face, which Hakuryuu pretended not to notice. The yaksha wanted to play with its food, wind him up in its fallacies before going for his throat, and he wasn’t playing along. Hakuryuu could admit, this was unusual for him. He liked a game of words and subtleties as much as the next fae, and usually battlefield banter delighted him.

 

But he was playing a different game now, with vastly different stakes, and he had little patience for the yaksha’s dawdling.

 

“The knight sent many of us,” the yaksha said, its words rasped at the edges. “Not of my kind, just those that would go. For a price, a reward, and a chance to have your blood. All he desires is your head, prince, that alone.”

 

“I have no intention of dying. Certainly not at his whims.”

 

The yaksha tilted its head in the opposite direction, regarding him with an unreadable expression.

 

“You would ask me, then, to simply leave you to your devices? Offer me something in return for your life?”

 

A brief, sharp laugh escaped Hakuryuu’s lips.

 

“I won’t ask anything of you.” he said. “Your corpse won’t be doing me any favors.”

 

He did not give the yaksha a chance to further the exchange before lunging. His sword slid free of its sheathe in one fluid motion, silent as a whisper and twice as swift. The polearm had always been his preferred weapon, but a sword was just as deadly in his practiced hands.

 

The yaksha leapt aside, barely, wide eyes watching the arc of the silvery blade as it slid cleanly through the air. Without moonlight, the blade no longer shone, but the flickering streetlamps still gleamed hauntingly off its surface.

 

There was no hesitation in Hakuryuu’s movements. While the yaksha steadied itself on unfamiliar ground, he had already twisted his body to jab at the fae’s belly. His blade struck, but cut through cloth instead of flesh, revealing the yaksha’s concave stomach.

 

In the same motion, he dipped himself downwards, ducking under the yaksha’s swipe. Its fingers were already unnaturally long, and now thick claws had begun to extend from the nailbeds, growing by the moment.

 

The heel of his foot met concrete and he pivoted himself, bringing his sword around for an upwards slice across his opponent’s back. However the yaksha’s initial imbalance from the sudden start of their fight was gone, and it twisted easily out of the way. Both clawed hands swept through the air at him, and Hakuryuu was forced to parry swift, slashing blows as he skirted backwards.

 

An opening presented itself amidst the myriad of blows. Hakuryuu flicked his wrist, the blade sliced neatly through two of the yaksha’s claws. This startled the fae long enough for him to bring his leg up and slam his foot into its belly, kicking his attacker back just far enough for him to spin out of reach.

 

The yaksha wavered on its feet for a moment, prodding gingerly at its stomach to assess the damage. Hakuryuu bounced on his toes, the adrenaline humming in his veins making it impossible to stay still. This familiar dance was one he had missed during his idle days. Pitting his wellbeing against an opponent’s to the staccato of clashing wills.

 

The yaksha deemed itself fit enough to continue the fight, shaking its hand absently as new claws began to extend from its fingers. Hakuryuu flexed his wooden wrist, only faintly aware of the roots digging deeper into his flesh, grounding themselves further into his bone.

 

For a moment, the street was silent again, the yaksha’s eyes scoping carefully over its opponent. It was beginning to understand the measure of Hakuryuu’s capabilities, or at least it thought it was. Not a single blow had landed on the prince yet, and confidence was burning inside his ribs. He could finish this easily. All he needed was a single opening, it didn’t matter if it was an honorless kill, he just needed it to be _over_.

 

At the exact same moment, they both lunged, Hakuryuu aiming once more for the yaksha’s belly, while the yaksha went for his throat. They both missed, trajectories skimming by one another entirely. Hakuryuu recovered first, hooking his foot against the yaksha’s calf and yanking forward with his body’s natural movement to throw it off-balance.

 

Despite its awkward appearance, the yaksha was not graceless. It flipped itself easily with the movement, and in mid-air it twisted unnaturally at the waist so that when it landed it brought its long claws cutting through the air towards the prince’s head. Hakuryuu blocked, but not quickly enough to stop one long claw slicing across his shoulder.

 

The pain was jarring, for a moment. He had never thought he could _forget_ what it was like for his skin to be cut. Centuries had been spent on the battlefield, tens of human lifetimes he had lived only at war. Had living with Judal made him soft?

 

Looking back, the next few seconds would come to Hakuryuu with sharp clarity. His mind was moving too quickly, and several thoughts barreled into one another at once. The result made the prince’s movements falter, just for a heartbeat.

 

The yaksha lunged, and Hakuryuu jerked his blade up to block. He realized a moment too late that it was a feint. It changed directions, raking its claws against his hip and down his thigh. One nail caught under his skin, tearing free and splitting his flesh further in the process. Hakuryuu cried out sharply, lurching away.

 

It was as if someone had snapped their fingers in front of Hakuryuu’s eyes. Suddenly the fight was terribly more _real_ than it had been before. Never underestimate an opponent, even if you know you outmatch them by miles; it was one of the first things his tutors had drilled into him. The pain, the sudden _danger_ to this fight, met the lingering thought of Judal, and the two collided into something gruesome.

 

For a brief moment, Hakuryuu imagined that he would lose. Thoughts of his own mangled corpse were passed over easily, but what came next made his breath catch. He saw the yaksha prowling back into one of the side alleys, waiting for the sun to come up. He thought of it risking the threshold to seek more warm flesh to feast on within the building just beside them.

 

Mortals bled red, Hakuryuu remembered. The same color as Judal’s enchanting eyes, only sickening, unnatural. He imagined red pouring from a jagged cut on Judal’s throat, bubbling from between his pretty lips and spilling down his chin. His stomach torn open with savage glee, pink insides spilling from the confines of his body. Judal’s lovely, pale skin, all painted scarlet.

 

His heart slammed into his ribs. He drew in a single breath. The prince’s entire demeanor _shifted_.

 

The yaksha noticed the change immediately and reeled back, as if he had just brandished iron beneath its nose. Something cold and lifeless had begun to seep into the prince’s aura; his eyes had become blank sheets of fathomless frost, endless, suffocating. The long shadows cast by the streetlamps seemed to flicker and cling to the soles of his feet, as if he was a mere extension of them.

 

When Hakuryuu struck next, it was with the grace of a dancer. His movements were no longer calculated or strategic, they were fluid and unforgiving. Each blow was meant to hurt, no matter how minor the damage. Glancing cuts to the yaksha’s wrists and palms, shallow slices across its calves, forearms, side. The sword’s blade was slicked with mauve blood, moving so quickly it was little more than a river in the air.

 

There was no opening for the yaksha to retaliate. It tried valiantly to strike at the prince, sacrificing one hand in an attempt to catch the blade and strike with the other. The sword cleaved between its fingers and cut open its cheek before its claws could do more than scrape Hakuryuu’s chest.

 

It had become painfully obvious how out of its depth the yaksha truly was, though only moments had passed. Escape was impossible, and the fight had been over long ago. The desperation in its frenzied movements became more and more pronounced, even as the futility became undeniable.

 

It would be kindest to simply end the yaksha’s life and have done with. But there was a whisper of cruelty in Hakuryuu, one he had silenced with an oath, which had been aching to be heard. It could not fill his head with malevolent murmurs meant for a certain mortal ( or perhaps it no longer wanted to, ) but the yaksha was another matter.

 

How long had it been since he had indulged his bloodlust? How many battles had Hakuryuu stilled his blade and swallowed the dryness in his throat, pretending he didn’t yearn for blood? He could keep this up for hours, he knew how to keep any creature alive, keep them suffering—

 

The roots in his left arm throbbed, sending a bolt of agony straight to the center of his thoughts. The malice scattered. He braced himself, put his weight behind his right arm, swung. His blade cut through cloth and flesh, shearing open the yaksha’s throat.

 

It fell, gurgling, to the concrete. Hakuryuu watched, eyes still pitiless and blank, as its body twitched.

 

The yaksha’s corpse was barely more than a collection of open wounds. It wore little of the cloth it had been swaddled in to begin with, most of it cut away in his flurry of blows. He could see its gaunt outline, watch as blood oozed from every split surface.

 

The yaksha stopped convulsing quickly. Hakuryuu stared at it a moment longer, body still held tight, ready to strike. Then, relaxed.

 

Behind him, there came a breath, and then;

 

“…Hakuryuu?”

 

There was a moment—just one, fleeting moment –where Hakuryuu had the overwhelming, unfamiliar urge to _run_. It was an almost primal fear. He didn’t want to turn and face what was behind him, he wanted to do _anything_ but that.

 

Hakuryuu turned his head and met Judal’s gaze.

 

The veil of cold indifference lifted from his mind the moment he laid eyes on his host. He knew that for a split second he had still been under its power, and for less than a heartbeat Judal had had to stare into the eyes of something empty. Something filled only with endless cold and nothing else.

 

Judal stood framed almost perfectly in the courtyard’s open gate. Ivy and leaves had almost obscured the wrought iron, and in another moment Hakuryuu would have thought the sight of him standing there in his night clothes to be quite beautiful. But then Judal took a step forward, and something painful gripped his chest.

 

“Don’t.” Hakuryuu said sharply, and Judal stopped moving immediately. “Stay within the threshold. Please.”

 

Judal fell back on his heels, hovering at the edge of gate. Hakuryuu became aware in bits and pieces what he must look like to him; standing over a corpse he had taken apart for no reason but cruel satisfaction, painted in drying blood. He must seem like a ghost of the person Judal had come to know.

 

His stomach twisted unpleasantly. He couldn’t go near him. Not now. Not bloodied and armed, the vicious beast in his belly still prowling just beneath his skin. He had never wanted Judal to see him like this.

 

Like he had heard Hakuryuu’s thoughts, Judal called out to him.

 

“You should come inside.”

 

His body obeyed, as if his words were the only law it knew. Hakuryuu could stop himself if he wanted, but for every part of him that thought he should stay away, two more yearned to be close again. The cold had never felt so heavy before, and the warmth of the world without it had never been so inviting.

 

He stepped through the gate, aware of the subtle drag of the threshold drawing him inside itself once more. The air inside the courtyard felt more welcoming, the night not so vast. Even without looking, Hakuryuu was acutely aware of Judal’s presence, his breathing and his gaze. He couldn’t meet his eyes.

 

“You’re hurt.” Judal said softly, pale fingers reached out.

 

They brushed his hip, just above where the yaksha’s claws had left their mark. Hakuryuu could feel the dull throbbing of the wound, and was vaguely aware that what he was feeling was _pain_. He couldn’t focus on it, not when Judal’s fingertips were pressed so tentatively to his skin.

 

He stood there, allowing his host to touch him without a word. The single touch became hands that pressed and sought methodically across his torso for wounds that did not exist, and Hakuryuu’s thoughts went static. Something in him was exhausted, not from the fight, but from the endless stream of thoughts and feelings that had flown through his head. He felt weary, but too awake to rest.

 

Judal’s fingers brushed his cheek and Hakuryuu’s breathing stilled. His host hesitated, sensing his sudden return to awareness, before the soft touch became firm. His palm slid against the prince’s cheek, cupping the side of his face.

 

Hakuryuu lifted his eyes, finally meeting Judal’s gaze. All the fear of what he would see there-- disgust, wariness –flew from his mind. There was no hesitation in Judal’s eyes, no concern for the blood now staining his hands. Just a soft, warm fondness, directed at him, and this set something alight in Hakuryuu’s chest that had his breath leaving him in a rush.

 

He leaned into Judal’s touch, shameless.  His palm pressed Judal’s harder against his skin, reveling in its warmth. It felt as though it belonged there, touching him, dragging him back down to earth and away from the biting cold of his inner beast. He turned his head, pressing his parted lips against the heel of Judal’s thumb. Judal’s fingers curled so the tips pressed into his flesh, and Hakuryuu let out a shuddering sigh.

 

They stood there, wordless and still. The sounds of the city carried on in the distance, and the sky overhead still hung with blurred stars. The body of the yaksha lay in the street. All was still again.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A **yaksha** is type of faerie that comes from Asian mythos, most often seen in Buddhism and Hinduism. They are commonly benevolent nature fey associated with the wilderness and mountains, however they possess a much darker dual persona. These malevolent yaksha are usually depicted as an ogre or ghost that haunts wilderness and pathways, eating passing travelers.


	18. Chapter 14

Clouds hung low overhead, pale gray and heavy, like at any moment they would burst. There was a soft chill in the air. The white noise of the city seemed especially present, as if the city was trying harder than usual to disguise the strange goings-on at its center in the hubbub.

 

A sheen of magic coated the walls of the courtyard, wavering slightly over the door to the apartment building, like a bubble about to be popped. The courtyard was quiet, and the street outside was devoid of passing strangers. Judal sat on his knees, the prince beside him, in front of the empty plot of soil where the _Silver Lady_ had briefly lived.

 

Hakuryuu’s hair was not pulled back today. He let it spill over his shoulders and around his face, silken strands brushing his cheeks every time he breathed. Judal wanted to push it back behind his pointed ears and watch it fall defiantly back around his handsome face. If it was as soft and as fine as it looked, he wanted to curl a lock around his finger and tug softly, just to tease the prince. Anything to bring his brilliant blue eyes back into focus.

 

Only hours had passed, and yet it felt as though he’d been staring into nothing, lost inside himself, for days now. Not so far away that Judal could not reach him if he tried, but far enough that the distance was obvious, the silence palpable. Judal wondered what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all.

 

The night had been impossibly long, and the day did not feel as if it were moving at all. Time didn’t seem to exist, not since the sun had risen that morning and pale light had echoed down from behind the clouds. Maybe it was the sky overhead, the patternless shifting of the gray clouds a hypnotic stream that offered no inconsistency. It made for an appropriately off-putting feeling to the day.

 

Hakuryuu had collected the corpse from the street sometime during the night. It had been waiting for them in the courtyard when they descended the apartment steps, rigid, cold, and mangled. Judal had stared at it a while, thoughtful more than anything, some part of him waiting for it to turn to dust in the morning light, or burst into shards of light like some video game enemy. It did neither. It laid there, an empty vessel of flesh, and continued to decay.

 

They buried it. Or, Hakuryuu did. A bowl had been nudged into Judal’s hands, distracting him as the courtyard came to life. He was sure Hakuryuu had spoken, asking him to collect young shoots and rotted fruit from around the courtyard, but he couldn’t remember his lips moving. By the time his mouth opened to respond, Hakuryuu had already stepped away.

 

Branches and roots dug into the empty soil, carving a hole in the earth. Judal meandered about amidst the swaying plants, plucking buds and fallen fruit as Hakuryuu had asked. His eyes drifted back to the empty plot again and again, though he knew this task was meant to distract him. The grave was formed before long.

 

Judal watched with morbid fascination as vines and arm-like tree branches hoisted the body into the air, before lowering it down towards its shallow grave. It wasn’t going to fit, not as it was, the plot simply wouldn’t allow for it.

 

And so the flora snapped its limbs and twisted its torso, each ugly contortion forcing the corpse into a smaller and smaller space. Joints popped, bones pushed up against disfigured skin, fluids oozed from its wounds. Once it fit, it hadn’t looked like much of anything anymore, and Judal’s ears rung with the sound of breaking bones.

 

Roots from neighboring trees dug into the sallow flesh, while shovels of leaf and bough dumped soil back into the grave. The creature’s skin was already stretched so taut over its contorted body that it began to split open where the roots punctured it, revealing sticky mauve coating decaying muscle. Judal had stood, unable to look away, as the deformed carcass disappeared beneath the dirt.

 

The prince had crouched there through it all, feeding his magic into the earth. He had listened to the snap of bones and tearing flesh without flinching, eyes never straying as he buried his kill.

 

Judal moved closer, but even once he was at Hakuryuu’s side, he still felt leagues away. And so there he sat, contemplating the softness of his hair and the sharpness of his cheekbones, wondering how to reach him, or if he should even try.

 

Judal drew in a breath and tore his eyes from the fae for a moment to look down at the bowl in his lap. He’d filled it with the odds and ends of flora Hakuryuu had wanted, rotten fruits and berries, leaves and little sprigs that had fallen from trees and bushes. They would all grow anew under the prince’s careful fingers; perhaps, that was the first step. To remind Hakuryuu that most often, he chose to make things _grow_.

 

He set the bowl on the prince’s knee, and watched as this seemed to bring light back to the fae’s distant eyes. The prince looked down, reaching for the bowl on his thigh compulsively, and then glanced up. His eyes met Judal’s, still distant, still storms of ice Judal didn’t know how to traverse, but focused on him nonetheless. They held each other’s gaze a moment, and then Hakuryuu smiled. Briefly, but it still sent relief flooding through Judal’s chest.

 

The feeling of relief filled him while he watched Hakuryuu set to work. His hands were methodical, plucking through the plant debris as if he had picked it himself and knew where each bit he wanted was. Divots were dug into the dirt with his fingers, bits of rotten fruit and seeds pressed down into them before they were filled. Sometimes a clipping was nestled in with the saccharine pulp, the dirt packed loosely around their stems. If he had wanted, Hakuryuu could have flicked his wrist and grown an orchard, but the busywork seemed to be grounding him, and Judal was glad for that.

 

With nothing to occupy him, he went back to staring at the prince. It was a familiar pastime, and not one Hakuryuu had ever dissuaded him from. At first all his staring had been curiosity-- because who _wouldn’t_ find him fascinating to look at? --now, though, it was almost a habit.

 

Judal’s eyes traced the curve of his pointed ear, the same as they had the first night he’d seen him. He followed the jagged edges of his scar, mapped the profile of his face, and let his eyes flick over his soft pink mouth. Hakuryuu was as beautiful as he had been the first time he’d seen him, perhaps even moreso now than before.

 

He had been beautiful when he killed too, and maybe that was why Judal was having trouble finding words.

 

It had been obvious from the moment he’d stepped outside the night before that whatever was transpiring wasn’t something he was meant to see. Hakuryuu had left quietly, and the air in the courtyard had been eerily still. If Judal had trusted his better judgment, he would have gone back upstairs and waited for Hakuryuu to return. But disregarding his better judgment had become a bad habit around the prince, it had given his curiosity free rein.

 

The fight had been all but over by the time he was standing in the gateway. His mind had told him he was watching a slaughter, that he should feel sick and want to look away, but his eyes saw something more like a performance. Hakuryuu had twisted and spun like a dancer on stage; the blood spilled was violet petals, and his blade was a fluttering ribbon of silver. And when all of it had stopped, and everything was still but for the prince’s breathing, Judal had known that by seeing this he had crossed some kind of line.

 

The distant look in Hakuryuu’s eyes was only bearable now because it wasn’t the _emptiness_ from the night before. If the feeling of that look hadn’t been so visceral, Judal would think he had imagined it. He’d blinked and it had been gone, but it _had_ been there. Something impossibly cold and endlessly dark. For a moment, it had swallowed Hakuryuu whole, and whatever was left behind was a stranger. It had made Judal’s chest tighten painfully, until warmth bled back into Hakuryuu’s eyes.

 

Then there had been the blood. The last time purple had blossomed over the prince’s skin he’d been in pain, and seeing it then sent his first thoughts to his wellbeing. Yet he was standing there the victor, and it had occurred to Judal that the blood spilled should make him feel something like fear. Only fear, of all things, was nowhere to be found. Where Judal went looking for it he found the unfamiliar face of _pride_ instead, curled catlike in his chest.

 

Judal didn’t know what to make of pride, so he had focused on concern.

 

It had been hours, and he’d had plenty of time to dwell on the events of the night before. Pride still prowled around the edges of his thoughts like a haughty feline. He was _proud_ of Hakuryuu for what he had done, this was undeniable. His kill, his _victory_ , made something in Judal’s chest purr.

 

“I am sorry, Judal.”

 

He blinked, drawn back to the present by the sound of Hakuryuu’s voice, and found himself still gazing at the prince beside him.

 

“What for?”

 

“For this, for everything that follows behind me.” Hakuryuu answered, brow furrowing as he rested his palms flat on the soil. “I’ve put you in danger and involved you in something that has nothing to do with you.”

 

Magic poured from his palms and into the earth. It made lights dance in his pale irises, which Judal had to work hard not to be utterly transfixed by.

 

“I took you in of my own free will.” he pointed out. “It’s not like it was difficult to tell trouble was going to follow you.”

 

“Even so… I’ve brought death to your doorstep.”

 

Green shoots began to emerge from the earth. They flourished and unfurled, blooming into crisp emerald bushes covered in thorns. Nettle-like bulbs grew around their bases, and the ivy behind the planter grew thicker, hanging loosely from the wall. It was off-putting, compared to the rest of the courtyard, perhaps conspicuously so.

 

“That side of me…” Hakuryuu said, his voice quiet. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

 

Judal opened his mouth to reply, and before he could, something clicked in his mind. His eyes grew wide.

 

Judal wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it until now. This distant attitude had confused him since he’d stepped out of his bedroom that morning. Hakuryuu had lived centuries, so surely he had had to kill before, the killing itself didn’t seem like it should be bothering him.

 

And it _wasn’t_. The body they had buried meant nothing to Hakuryuu, and the life he’d taken had already been brushed from his conscience. Yet in his own way, the prince was _frightened_. Scared of what Judal thought of him, of what he would think of him from now on. He thought that seeing him take a life would change how Judal viewed him.

 

In that context, Judal couldn’t blame him for being distant. It made sense to think that someone like him, who for all Hakuryuu knew had lived a life free of carnage until now, would be skittish from then on. And yet, all Judal could think of was how, after everything, Hakuryuu had leaned into his touch like it was the only thing grounding him to the earth.  The feeling of his open mouth pressing to his palm.

 

Judal wondered if Hakuryuu was aware that nothing, _no one_ , had ever been like him. Before him, Judal’s life had been devoid of outings filled with laughter and linked hands. No one had waited for him at home and greeted him when he walked through the door. Meals were for one, eaten in silence to the companionship of the television, and the courtyard was lifeless and uninviting.

 

It wasn’t like he’d had no one at all, to be fair. There had been friends in his classes, a couple people he saw outside of school when they bothered to invite him out. Some nights he went to free concerts or wandered the city in the dark, admiring the lively nightlife. But there had been no one like Hakuryuu. No one who made his heart do acrobatics in his chest, or his tongue twist into ungainly knots. Judal didn’t think there would ever be anyone like Hakuryuu again, either.

 

“Hakuryuu…”

 

His tongue burned under the weight of Hakuryuu’s full name, waiting to be spoken. The prince looked up at him, lovely blue eyes warmer than they’d been since the previous morning. In that moment, Judal was prepared to spend all three of his requests on just one, split second. He swallowed the urge, the prince’s full name, and leaned over to kiss Hakuryuu’s parted lips.

 

Hakuryuu was warm and smooth under his mouth. When their lips connected, it felt as though a thousand carbonated bubbles sparkled against Judal’s skin. _Magic_ , he assumed, and then he stopped thinking at all for the few, blissful seconds he stole. If he could make them last years, he very well might have, but that wouldn’t occur to him until he’d already pulled away. The kiss was chaste, and ended after just a few moments of contact.

 

Judal pulled back, sucking in a breath. He didn’t get very far, and the breath didn’t make it to his lungs, because before it could Hakuryuu had stolen it straight from his mouth. Warm, calloused palms cupped Judal’s cheeks as the prince pulled him back into another kiss. And another. And another. And _another_.

 

It was dizzying; he found himself pressed back, supporting himself with his hands on the concrete to keep steady. Hakuryuu kissed him fervently, mouth molding perfectly against his own. Judal could feel decades of experience behind his lips, almost taste the self-restraint that kept the prince from devouring him right away. It felt as though Hakuryuu had been waiting for this, and now he had it he wanted to take everything all at once.

 

Judal gasped between their mouths, suddenly aware of how desperately he needed to breathe. Hakuryuu’s lips caught his bottom lip, fingers digging into his thick hair.

 

“All I could think about,” Hakuryuu breathed. “Was you. You being hurt, being _killed_. I could see it tearing out your throat, hear you gasping for breath—“

 

Another kiss was pressed against Judal’s panting lips, open mouthed and almost desperate. He leaned up into it, pushing the prince back far enough he could lift his hands to his face. He combed his hair back, behind his ears just like he’d been wanting to, as Hakuryuu’s palms slid down to his shoulders.

 

“Stop thinking about it.” he gasped, once Hakuryuu gave him room to speak. “It’s over, right? Nothing hurt me.”

 

“There will be others.”

 

“Don’t think about them either.”

 

Judal hooked his arms around the prince’s neck, forcing them closer together. Something hot was building in his chest. It felt selfish and needy, like he’d roused some kind of hungry animal that lived in his ribs.

 

“Think about _me_.”

 

Hakuryuu obeyed, his mouth finding Judal’s once more and silencing them both. The freshly covered grave lay forgotten, but the longer they kissed, the more the thorn bushes began to blossom with crimson flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who celebrate it; Happy Valentine's Day! A day early, yes, and I'm sorry I don't have anything planned for the day of to give all my lovely readers, but I think this is appropriately romantic anyway. 
> 
> I just want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has been following up to this point, everyone who has supported me in getting this story out there, and _especially_ everyone who has left me comments. You guys make every chapter worth the struggle of the deadline, and thanks to you I'm always excited to publish the next piece of this story.
> 
> Let me reassure all of you that if this sounds like closing credit thanks, it's not. Like I said a few chapters back, we're heading towards the end of the first arc, so don't worry. Serendipity isn't going anywhere any time soon.


	19. Chapter 15

Winter crept in like a scorned pet, its frosty claws slowly ticking across the concrete jungle, tail of snow and sleet dragging behind it. The city became a mess of gray skies and blinding, cold sunlight that reflected off of every possible surface. Tents went up in the park during the farmer’s market so vendors didn’t have to stand in the bitter cold. The heat in Judal’s apartment didn’t turn on for a long while, and when it was truly teeth-chatteringly cold, he called his landlord and yelled until the radiator started hissing.

 

Hakuryuu took to borrowing sweaters from Judal’s over-stuffed closet, layering them two at a time on especially frosty days when he descended the step to the courtyard. The mortal cold didn’t affect him terribly, for he had been born in the dead of winter in the court of cold and darkness. Some days the chill was almost nostalgic, and he would stand outside with no sweater at all, drinking it in. On those days, Judal’s hands were always searing hot on his skin, though his host would complain that he was too cold to touch.

 

More fae came seeking the prince’s head. Boar-headed men and spindly women who looked as if the wind would blow them away, things that only appeared at the witching hour and others that only emerged in the rain. Judal learned the names of ogres and goblins, the difference between a nixie and a nymph. Some days the fighting was done by the time he saw Hakuryuu again, and some days he would watch through the courtyard gate as another enemy was cut down.

 

Though winter had sunk lazy claws into the atmosphere, its bitter yawn sucking the life from the earth, the courtyard flourished, fed by the dead. Hakuryuu showed him how to crack bone to reach marrow, which pieces of flesh best fed which flowers, and how quickly fungus could eat a corpse down to nothing at all. Judal’s excited ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s only made the prince smile, and every lesson ended in a rain of kisses on Judal’s giggling mouth.

 

The distinction between his home life and the life he led in his classrooms became so pronounced that at times, Judal felt as if one or both were completely unreal. College was too mundane, and what waited for him when he returned to his apartment was fantastical. Which was more unrealistic, now? The extraordinary, or normalcy?

 

In the moments right after he woke up, when it was just him in bed, staring at the ceiling, Judal wondered if everything had been a dream. He would get up and find only his own clothing in his drawers, his furniture as it had been before the prince, and the courtyard dead and empty. It would have all just been a brilliant fantasy.

 

The time when dreams and reality seemed interchangeable were frightening sometimes. Judal would lay in bed trying to find some concrete, undeniable proof of what was real to cling onto, and finding nothing would shuffle out to the kitchen. He avoided looking in the direction of the couch and coffee table, because if he looked and found them as they had been months ago, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

 

Movement seemed automatic, the steps to making tea a familiar, grounding routine that Judal went through even in his haze. By the time he was halfway through stirring sugar into his steaming cup, arms curled around his waist and a warm mouth pressed to the back of his skull. It was always like this, on mornings when reality seemed unreal, as if Hakuryuu could tell that he was drifting between what _was_ and _was not_ without a tether.

 

Judal stopped stirring, a smile curling his mouth as a second kiss was laid against his hair.

 

“Morning, Hakuryuu.” he exhaled slowly.

 

Hakuryuu’s palms pressed flat against his stomach, gentle pressure reminding him to inhale, and then breathe out again. The steady rhythm of his own breathing began to ground him, drawing his thoughts from where they had been scattered and organizing them once again.

 

“Good morning,” the prince hummed, a third kiss brushing the nape of his neck. “The heat is out again.”

 

Even as he groaned aloud, Judal was struck by how incredibly ordinary that observation was. It didn’t sound right coming from a creature like Hakuryuu.

 

“No wonder it’s fucking freezing in here.” he grumbled, then added; “I don’t have the energy to bitch someone out right now.”

 

“Would you like me to have a word with your landlord?”

 

Judal turned, resting the small of his back against the counter.

 

“What did I say about the apartment?”

 

Hakuryuu sighed, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. His hands had slid up to the space just below Judal’s shoulder blades, as if the idea of not touching him was unfeasible.

 

“All matters pertaining to your abode are your own to deal with, and I am not to interfere.” he recited, as he had several times before. “Which I maintain is _silly_.”

 

“My space, my rules.” Judal said, tapping a finger against the prince’s nose.

 

“Maybe so, but I don’t think anyone would notice if it were just a _light_ bewitching…” Hakuryuu groused, scrunching his nose. “It might even be considered an improvement. His wife would thank me.”

 

“Okay, yeah, he’s usually two steps from drunk anyway so you’re probably right, but _I’d_ know. And it would feel like _cheating_.”

 

“Cheating? Having consistent heating is cheating?”

 

“You like the cold.”

 

“What I like is not the point.”

 

Hakuryuu drew him closer, mindful of the mug of tea between their bodies. The tips of their noses nudged together and Judal’s eyelids fluttered, the urge to lean in and kiss the fae almost overwhelming.

 

“Mortal ailments do not affect me,” Hakuryuu murmured. “But you, sweetling, could get sick.”

 

“I am _not_ awake enough for cute nicknames.”

 

At this, a sly smile curled the fae’s mouth. If he were more awake, Judal might have been wary of the expression, but as it was all he could think was that his lips had no business looking that tempting.

 

“Is that so?” Hakuryuu hummed, leaning a little closer. “Do you dislike it, my Judal?”

 

Pet names had always seemed somewhat annoying as an outside observer. However, Judal had quickly realized that being on the receiving end was another story altogether. It was very difficult to keep his breathing steady with the prince’s lips just barely brushing his, murmuring sweetness into the air between them. Judal, personally, thought it was pretty miraculous he hadn’t kissed him already.

 

“Not that I’m opposed to being seduced or anything…”

 

“Mm? Am I seducing you, sweetling?”

 

“…but I’ve got a mug of _really_ hot tea in my hands, and it’s gonna get all over at least one of us, and that’s gonna be a huge turn-off for everyone.”

 

Hakuryuu seemed to honestly debate the pros and cons of getting scalding tea all down his front for the sake of seducing a half-awake mortal. Ultimately though, he sighed resignedly and drew back.

 

“Go make yourself warm, I’ll cook us something hot for breakfast.”

 

Judal pecked the prince’s cheek before shuffling over to the couch. Hakuryuu watched him settle down and begin swaddling himself in blankets before turning back towards the kitchen, satisfied. He set about making breakfast for two, as he did most mornings.

 

Like Judal and his tea, the motions were almost mindless for Hakuryuu. The warmth from the stovetop made the chill in the apartment more pronounced. Cold seeped into him like it belonged in his bones and he shivered, having not yet pulled on one of the sweaters lying about. Hakuryuu found his mind wandering as he lost himself in his task.

 

A mosaic of memories dusted the inside of his eyelids every time he blinked. Sidhe swam before his eyes, faces of friends and foes flickering back and forth through his mind. Something in the pan hissed and he was jerked back to the present.

 

Hakuryuu shook himself, casting thoughts of his companions in the rebellion from his mind like clearing cobwebs from an attic. They clung stubbornly to the corners of his mind, where he ignored them.

 

Soon enough, Hakuryuu emerged from the kitchen with two plates in hand. He stopped beside the couch, huffing a laugh through his nose. Judal was curled up, almost lost beneath the blankets Hakuryuu usually slept under, still nursing his cup of tea.

 

“You know, I think I may be spoiling you.” the prince teased.

 

“Isn’t the one in debt _supposed_ to spoil the person he’s in debt to?”

 

Hakuryuu set their breakfast on the coffee table before leaning over and grabbing for the comforters. Judal shrieked, squirming away as the blankets were tugged at.

 

“Hakuryuu, n _o—o_!” he whined, clutching his mostly-empty mug of tea. “It’s c _o—o_ ld!”

 

“If you keep squirming, you’ll fall off.”

 

“Then leave my blankets alone!”

 

“They’re _my_ blankets, Judal.”

 

“Yeah but I’m the one using them!”

 

“Oh, so everything you touch is just yours now?” Hakuryuu asked, more amused than exasperated. He tugged at the blankets again, resisting the urge to smile at his pouting host.

 

Judal huffed.

 

“That’s absolutely right.” he said defiantly.

 

“Oh really?” the fae chuckled. “You’ll have to demonstrate.”

 

Without missing a beat, Judal closed the distance between them and kissed his smiling mouth. His lips were warm, no doubt from the ceramic of the mug and the hot tea he had been drinking. The feeling was vibrant, intoxicating, when a chill hung in the air. Hakuryuu shivered and pressed to deepen the kiss, a familiar, churning want for his host squirming in his belly.

 

When they parted, Judal was out of breath, mouth pinker than before. Hakuryuu pecked his lips again.

 

“It looks like you were right; everything you touch _is_ yours.” he smiled fondly. “But would you mind sharing the blankets anyway?”

 

Judal nodded, cheeks tinged red.

 

They ended up with the covers tucked around their waists, breakfast in their laps and knees overlapping. Judal was fully awake by his third bite of food, but the meal was silent anyway. Not unpleasantly so, the companionship of eating side by side was enough for both of them, but the silence gave the mind a chance to wander.

 

Hakuryuu’s eyes were drawn to the window, his empty plate set on the coffee table, and he stared out at the brickwork of the next building over. The light outside was silvery, and if he looked up he was sure he would see the slate gray of clouds overhead. Maybe it would snow again, and if it did, maybe it would actually stick to the ground this time instead of becoming ugly, discolored slush. That would be nice, though it would never compare to the snow in Sidhe.

 

In Sidhe, snow was not white, it was _white_. Hakuryuu couldn’t describe the color even if he tried, because the word he wanted didn’t seem to exist in the mortal realm. Colors here weren’t duller, per say, but they had a different saturation to them. In Sidhe, colors were all vibrant, opaque, or iridescent. Sometimes all three at once. It was difficult to describe.

 

UnSeelie kingdom was always caught somewhere between late spring and the dead of winter. In the coldest months, snow blanketed the kingdom in impossible white, the kind of blankness that drove the inexperienced mad. Hakuryuu had always found it beautiful. Perhaps it was because he had been born there, raised amidst the rolling hills and jagged peaks of powder and frost, but the white had never bothered him. Where others lost their way, he knew the paths and trails hidden in the slightest inconsistencies in the snow’s surface.

 

He remembered riding on the back of a great wolf, almost the size of a mortal car, tucked between its thick neck and his brother’s chest. They had ridden far, far out into the plains outside the palace gates, until everything was horizon around them. Hakuryuu had been bundled so tightly in furs and the belt Hakuyuu had insisted lashing around their waists to keep him from falling off that he couldn’t move.

 

It had been perfect.

 

That memory had not resurfaced in many years, and thinking of it now made his heart ache. Every memory after that, every _happy_ memory, suddenly seemed distant. He was back there, tiny hands clenched in thick lupine fur, staring wide eyed into the glittering frost, his brother’s breathing against his back.

 

Judal squirmed against his side, tucking himself right up against Hakuryuu, arms coiling around his waist. The prince blinked, the snow in front of his eyes gone, and looked away from the window. He found himself almost nose to nose with his host.

 

“Hey.” Judal said.

 

“…Hello.”

 

“You seemed really far away.”

 

“Did I?”

 

Judal hitched his legs over Hakuryuu’s knee, which finally seemed to remind the prince he was capable of moving. He wound an arm around Judal, pulling him tighter against himself so he could feel his warmth. If his fingers snuck beneath the hem of his shirt, pressing to the smooth skin of his side, Judal pretended not to notice.

 

“Yeah.” he said. “I don’t like it when you look so far off.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“No you aren’t.”

 

“I’m sorry it worries you.” Hakuryuu clarified. Judal hummed.

 

They sat there a while, looking at one another but not saying anything. Judal’s attentive crimson eyes remained pointedly trained on Hakuryuu’s face, while the prince’s eyes traced over his lover’s features. He wasn’t appraising him, just reminding himself of the curves and edges, drawing his eyes over them like a familiar map.

 

Judal leaned in closer, resting their foreheads together. This close, Hakuryuu could make out the flecks of deep burgundy in his irises, watch the dilation of his pupils. He wondered what it would be like to drown in the red depths of Judal’s eyes, if sinking into them would feel like being consumed by every passion he’d ever felt.

 

“I don’t know what goes on in your head,” Judal murmured. “And you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t wanna. But I’m here, you know? And I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me.”

 

Hakuryuu smiled gently.

 

“It’s a long story, and you have class in an hour. Besides… you may not like everything you hear.”

 

“Maybe. But I like _you_.”

 

Hakuryuu blinked, nonplussed. Judal huffed, pushing their foreheads together harder.

 

“I want to know about you. I want you to tell me things about yourself. So if you’re willing to tell me, then I’ll hear anything you want to say.”

 

“And what if I want to say that I think you’re beautiful?”

 

The flush that burned its way up Judal’s cheeks was almost immediate. Stubbornly, he refused to acknowledge the prince’s hand as it rubbed against his bare skin, still tucked under his shirt.

 

“I’d tell you that I still think you’re a lot more affectionate than I’d expected you’d be.”

 

“Do you dislike that?”

 

“No. Not at all.”

 

Hakuryuu knew he should let Judal go, since he still needed to shower and get dressed before heading to class. He couldn’t bring himself to though, not when he was saying things like that with such sincerity. Selfishly, he pulled him closer, into his lap, so that Judal was curled against him completely.

 

Judal hooked his arms around Hakuryuu’s neck, leveraging himself so he could lean his weight against Hakuryuu without losing eye contact. The apartment was still freezing, and it was tempting to fall back on the couch and pull the blankets around themselves until the heat came on.

 

Hakuryuu sighed softly.

 

“I have no reason to hide things from you, Judal.” he said. “I will tell you everything. Soon. I promise.”

 

Judal, seemingly satisfied, tilted his head and pressed a chaste kiss to Hakuryuu’s lips.

 

“Okay.” he said. “I can wait.”

 

The words were so simple, and yet the promise of trust they carried was so significant to Hakuryuu it made his chest tighten. He hugged Judal tightly, head falling to bury against his shoulder. Judal tucked his face against Hakuryuu’s hair, squeezing around his shoulders.

 

They sat there a while, absorbing one another’s warmth.

 

“…So, if I skip class today—“

 

“You aren’t skipping class.” Hakuryuu muffled against Judal’s shoulder.

 

“But it’s c­ _o—o_ ld!”

 

“Then I’ll make something hot for dinner, and dessert.”

 

“Will you put peaches in it?”

 

Hakuryuu huffed, amused. “Of course.”


	20. Chapter 16

“I almost find this insulting.” Hakuryuu said dryly, arms crossed.

 

Judal peered over his shoulder warily, observing the gathering of fluttering fae outside the courtyard gate. They were small, compared to the other creatures that had come looking for the prince, but their sheer numbers were unsettling. Twenty or more of the bright crimson fae had swarmed the open gateway, chattering loudly between sharp teeth.

 

“What the fuck are they?” Judal asked.

 

The little fae’s eyes roamed over the pair of them hungrily. Judal swore at least a few of them licked their thin lips, as if they were about to tuck into a great feast. He shifted backwards, unnerved. Hakuryuu however, scowled.

 

“Virikas.” he said, sounding just as unimpressed as before. “They gather outside the homes of those soon to die and cause a fuss, just to be cruel. They have been known to swarm small fae if they are starving, but they don’t pose a threat.”

 

Judal must not have looked convinced, because Hakuryuu smiled gently.

 

“They’re vultures.” he assured. “We have nothing to worry about.”

 

The virikas’ chatter became unhappy screeches and hissing. They stomped their little feet in the air and bore bloodstained teeth at them, clearly displeased with the dismissive tone they were being spoken about in. Judal wrapped his arms around himself, the winter chill needling its way through his sweater.

 

“We can’t just leave them there right? Someone’s gonna notice them screaming.”

 

The prince sighed through his nose, casting an irritated glance at the swarm.

 

“No, we cannot.”

 

“You’re not going out there, are you? Cause those teeth look fucking sharp. And I’m running out of bandages.”

 

“I told you we needed more a week ago.”

 

“ _I_ told _you_ to quit getting hurt all the time!”

 

Hakuryuu gave Judal the look he reserved for when he thought he was being unreasonable, to which his lover responded with a stubborn glare. They could have gone back and forth all day, but he chose to let the matter drop in favor of turning back to their unwelcomed guests.

 

“At any rate,” he digressed. “I would not demean myself by actually fighting these annoyances.”

 

The prince uncrossed his arms, lifted a hand, and snapped his fingers.

 

The courtyard surged to life all at once. Even though he was used to seeing the trees and vines take on lives of their own by now, Judal still looked around in awe at the moving flora. It never got dull to see Hakuryuu’s magic at work. Even knowing that his power came from the manipulation of living things, it was an undeniably _beautiful_ magic, even at its most gruesome.

 

Though many of the plants still flourished despite the weather thanks to their diet of fresh fae corpses, some had fallen dormant for the winter. Among them, the ivy had dried up and become veins of brown against the iron gate and dull brick walls, only to come alive now at the prince’s beckoning.

 

Virikas screamed as the ivy lashed out, tangling around their tiny ankles and slip-thin waists. Several struggled free, or darted out of reach, but whips of ivy followed them. One by one the swarm was caught and dragged back between the iron bars, where their struggling only made them scream in agony as their faerie flesh came in contact with their bane.

 

Once they were on the other side of the threshold, their struggling weakened visibly. The virikas could only squirm fruitlessly as the garden killed them one by one. Screams turned to gurgles and chokes as vines strangled the life out of them, and several trees extended vicious roots to spear straight through their tiny bodies and draw them back beneath the earth.

 

It was over in a matter of minutes. The last virika had some spark left in it, likely the leader of her pack, her tiny hands clawing at the vine trying to wrap around her neck. Hakuryuu regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then inclined his head, almost respectful. Whether this was some sort of sign to the small fae, or so surprising she was stunned, she stopped moving. The nearest tree branch lashed against her head, and there was the distinct sound of her neck snapping.

 

Hakuryuu exhaled and turned to his host, smiling lightly.

 

“There, not a scratch.” he said. “Happy, sweetling?”

 

“Yes.” Judal replied, before pecking the prince’s mouth.

 

“Shall we finish breakfast?”

 

“Yeah, I’m starving. You’d think they’d have the courtesy to show up _after_ we were done eating.”

 

“Weaklings are rarely courteous, I’ve found.”

 

Breakfast was as they had left it on the coffee table, still steaming lightly. They had barely taken their first bites when the virikas had approached, which caused a small flower on the windowsill to blossom. The organic alarm system could sense the presence of faerie magic, which gave them the advantage of knowing when a new challenger was approaching. Hakuryuu had told Judal some long name for the flower, but he couldn’t remember it now.

 

Judal plopped himself down on the coffee table, which was his chosen perch that morning, and snatched a piece of honeyed toast from the pile to nibble on. Hakuryuu went to the windowsill, rotting the flower back into the earth before growing another bud to take its place. They ate breakfast together, as if there had never been an interruption, and the rest of the day progressed as though their morning hadn’t started with a slaughter.

 

This had become their norm. At first, each new opponent had made a raw feeling of unease squirm in Judal’s gut, and Hakuryuu’s expression was always grim as he carried himself down the stairs to meet his foe. The theatrics and thrill had worn off, though. Now the fae that paced outside the courtyard gate were all regarded as bothersome interruptions of one kind or another. Just troublesome pests that got in the way of their everyday lives.

 

Judal thought about this sometimes, how vastly different this lifestyle was to what it had been before he met Hakuryuu. The past, his especially, was never thought of with any kind of longing, so Judal never dwelt on these thoughts for very long. But they did occur to him occasionally. A fleeting, bemusing notion that once upon a time he had weighed the heaviness of groceries against carrying Hakuryuu’s wounded body up the stairs.

 

( Hakuryuu did most of the carrying nowadays, hiking Judal into his arms whenever he wanted him moved and his host was being petulant and stubborn. )

 

Things seemed painfully simplistic in retrospect. Even buying groceries wasn’t the same as it had been before Hakuryuu came into his life. Judal hadn’t seen the inside of a supermarket in what felt like decades, spending his money at farmer’s markets instead, and even then only to buy the few things Hakuryuu couldn’t simply grow himself.

 

And Judal liked his life like this. This complicated mess of magic and mundanity suited him just fine. From the violence to the double entendres, the magic that hummed and buzzed against his ears with increasing frequency and the corpses he helped dispose of on a near daily basis. Judal wouldn’t change a thing about his life if he had the chance.

 

Still, as days wore on the mysterious aspect of Hakuryuu became less of an allure and more of a curiosity. It wasn’t that Judal begrudged him his secrets, he wasn’t the type to spill his life’s story and he didn’t think Hakuryuu was either, but he had questions. For example, why someone wanted Hakuryuu dead so badly they were sending assassins in the double digits to try and kill him without any regard for how many of them weren’t coming back.

 

There were a lot of reasons to want a person dead, as far as Judal knew. It wasn’t as simple as the movies made it out to be, where the one being targeted was a good guy and the one sending the assassins was a villain. Even if Hakuryuu told him every detail of his life, he’d only get _his_ side of the story. The thing was, Judal had concluded in one of his many moments staring at nothing thinking, that it didn’t particularly matter to him what the other side of the story _was_. If Hakuryuu was on one side, then he was too, regardless of the right or wrong of it.

 

Judal had thought himself in figure-eights over what might be the cause of Hakuryuu’s would-be assassination, but he’d never bothered to ask about it. Hakuryuu had assured him he would tell him, and he trusted him to do so.

 

However, somewhere around noon, when Judal had been laying with his head hanging off the side of the couch, legs kicked up over the back for some time, he decided he was drawing the line at a swarm of virikas screaming bloody murder at barely nine AM.

 

“So,” Judal piped up without warning. “Why exactly does someone want you dead?”

 

Without more than a half-second of hesitation, Hakuryuu answered;

 

“Because I want to kill my mother.”

 

Judal allowed himself a moment to process with statement.

 

“Okay. So. Is there a reason to go with that, or are you actually just a matricidal maniac?”

 

“I would like to think that if I were a maniac, you would have noticed by now.”

 

“I mean, you do kill people kind of regularly. And have me help to hide the bodies.”

 

“You mortals, so hung up on _morals_.”

 

Hakuryuu sighed through his nose. Judal couldn’t see him from his overturned position on the couch, but he could imagine the prince running a hand through his inky hair, frowning at whatever was in front of him. His brow would be pinching in that pretty way it did whenever he was mulling over his next few words. Judal wanted to see, but the effort of righting himself didn’t appeal to him at the moment.

 

“The matter is not as simple as I make it sound.” Hakuryuu said, sighing a second time. “Barbaric as it sounds, I almost wish I _were_ just a matricidal fiend.”

 

“I mean, killing moms is a pretty common theme in most fairytales. So you’re not, like, totally off script for a faerie prince I guess.”

 

Judal’s teasing tone earned him a chuckle from the prince. By now, he was used to even the most serious of conversations with Judal being littered with quips and offhanded remarks. It kept things from getting too heavy.

 

“The main reason that there are currently so many fae attempting to kill me,” Hakuryuu went on. “Is predominantly that I should already be dead. And I should already be dead because I started a rebellion, and I started a rebellion to stop the Queen.”

 

“And stopping the Queen means killing her, and she’s—“

 

“My mother, yes.”

 

“Okay, I’m following so far.”

 

The prince fell silent, and Judal waited patiently for him to continue. It took him almost a full two minutes to collect himself this time, and by now Judal’s head was starting to ache somewhat from hanging upside down.

 

“I’m not really sure where to start.” he admitted. “Every time I try to begin I realize there’s another part of the tale I’d have to mention to make sense of it.”

 

“Well, shit, I’m not going anywhere, right?”

 

With some effort, Judal hoisted himself upright on the couch. His head immediately disagreed with this sudden shift in equilibrium. He took a moment to sway dizzily before shaking himself and bringing his vision back into focus.

 

Hakuryuu was standing not far off, regarding him with a look that almost resembled nervousness. Judal crossed his legs and leaned his arms on the back of the couch.

 

“I meant what I said; you don’t need to tell me every little thing about yourself, Hakuryuu. But I do wanna know. So, start at the beginning, wherever that is.”

 

He was silent again, and Judal almost thought he would stay that way this time, before he spoke.

 

“I suppose the first thing you ought to understand is the hierarchy of our society. It’s quite different from yours. To begin with, Sidhe is split into two courts, and then all things in between. Seelie and UnSeelie; of the two, Seelie’s always been viewed as somewhat _kinder_ , but that’s laughable if you actually know anyone from their ranks.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“A number of them, yes, but most notably my oldest companion. He’s as vicious as I am, just does it with a smile.”

 

Judal wanted to ask more about this person who Hakuryuu spoke of with a fond quirk to his lips, but stopped himself. They’d get sidetracked like that.

 

“Each court is ruled by a Queen.” Hakuryuu went on. “The first Queens of Sidhe, Titania and Mab, passed their mantles down to their daughters, and so on and so forth to our current Queens. Forgive me, I would tell you their names, but one does not speak a Queen’s name lightly and I’d rather not chance drawing my mother’s attention.”

 

“What about the stuff between the courts?” Judal asked, breezing past the Queens altogether.

 

“The unclaimed lands are not exactly _between_ Seelie and UnSeelie. It’s… difficult to describe. The geography of Sidhe is constantly shifting and rearranging. Finding one’s way has much more to do with your sense of self and magic than a sense of direction.” Hakuryuu seemed to ponder a way to make this clearer, then gave up. “Any unclaimed territory is either deserted for some reason, unclaimed thanks to some ancient pact of some sort, or belongs to something as old and wily as the Queens.”

 

“Like a king?”

 

“Well…”

 

Judal suddenly wondered if he should have grabbed a notebook and pen to be taking notes.

 

“Do you remember what I told you about fae and words, Judal?”

 

“Uhh…” Judal shuffled through his thoughts quickly, looking for that piece of information. “Oh! Yeah! To always pay really close attention to how a fae says something, cause a lot of language is wordplay, right?”

 

“Something like that. By our standards, mortal speech is very straightforward. This may get a little confusing.”

 

Hakuryuu’s lips twitched into a smile as his host sat up straighter, the picture of attentiveness.

 

“The King of a court is always somehow related to the Queen. A sibling, a parent, a child, a lover; sometimes more than one of those things at once. At any one time, there is only one Queen and one King in each court, there can be no more. Each court _must_ have a Queen at its head, however, there need not be the King beside them. At present, neither Queen has her King.”

 

Judal nodded, still following all this.

 

“Two courts, two Queens, two kings. Gotta be a Queen for each court, but not a king.” he recited back.

 

“No, there does not need to be _the_ King.”

 

Judal paused, played his words back in his mind, and then narrowed his eyes. Hakuryuu crossed his arms, waiting patiently. He didn’t need to say a word. Judal was plenty clever to figure it out all on his own, and after a brief moment, he saw his eyes light up.

 

“So there’s _the_ King of the court, who’s related to the Queen and junk, but then there are… _other_ kings?”

 

“Precisely.” Hakuryuu allowed approval to slip into his voice, just to watch Judal preen delightedly. “A king of a court is mainly there to preside over expanses of the court in the Queen’s stead. The courts are vast places, and while the Queens are in control of all of it at once, they cannot be expected to attend to every intricacy of every region. So there are kings, sometimes lords, and sometimes ladies.”

 

“And princes?”

 

A sly smile curved Hakuryuu’s mouth.

 

“What about them?”

 

“There’s a difference between _a_ prince and _the_ Prince, right?”

 

“Yes.” Judal preened a little more. “ _The_ Prince of a court is generally the child of the Queen. Most often this is by blood, though it’s not unheard of for her child to be adopted. As I’ve said, I am the Prince of UnSeelie court. _A_ prince serves under a king. They are named by their kings, so their relations vary.”

 

“What if the Queen has more than one kid?” Judal asked, curious to a fault.

 

He almost immediately wished he hadn’t.

 

He had never seen Hakuryuu’s face change from content to distant so quickly. The fond smile left his mouth and was replaced by a sad line, and his eyes drifted to the side, avoiding his gaze. Hakuryuu wound his arms tighter around himself for a moment, like he was trying to hold himself together.

 

“They go by numbers, according to their birth.” he said. “There used to be three of us.”

 

_Used to be._ Judal wanted to reach into the air, snatch his words and make himself choke on them.

 

Hakuryuu took a deep breath, bringing himself back to the present.

 

“Does that all make sense?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He nodded. After a moment’s contemplation, he uprooted himself from where he stood and crossed over to the couch. Judal turned to face him as he settled himself beside his host, one knee drawn up against his chest.

 

“My mother has been sewing seeds of hatred against the Seelie court for centuries now.” the prince began anew, his expression serious. “At first it was subtle, but of late she’s grown increasingly bold in rallying our people against theirs. It would be an exaggeration to say that our courts have been entirely _friendly_ in the past, but it has been millennia since the last all-out war. And for good reason. The magic of the courts holds not just Sidhe, but a great deal of realms it is connected to, in balance.”

 

“…Like _this_ realm, right?”

 

“Precisely.” Hakuryuu chuckled mirthlessly. “I admit, the fate of _other_ realms was not the priority in my mind, when all this began. Now though…”

 

His eyes passed over Judal, and Judal drew himself up straighter in response. It was just as touching as it was terrifying to think that _he_ was all it took to change the prince’s perspective. An entire realm was suddenly worth protecting because he was in it.

 

“I heard rumors that my mother was planning to wage war against the Seelie court, but I had been hearing things like that for years.” the prince went on. “This time, though, the rumors spoke of more than just war and conquest. My mother seeks not just to best the Seelie court and take their lands for our own, but to eliminate its existence altogether.”

 

Judal blinked, startled.

 

“Is that… _possible_?”

 

“It shouldn’t be, no. Seelie and UnSeelie are just names, but the power at the center of each court is very real. Older than even the first Queens, older than any living thing, maybe.”

 

“So then, how--?”

 

“I don’t know.” he shook his head. “I wish I did. All I know is that when it comes to my mother, there are no boundaries she will not cross, and no depths to which she will not sink. If she means to erase Seelie court from existence, then she’s most likely already found a way to do so.”

 

“And that would be bad.”

 

“That would be catastrophic.”

 

Judal shifted uncomfortably. This would be the part where he would usually make some snide remark, but he was finding himself lacking the words to do so. For some reason, his mind and body were having an almost visceral reaction to this whole conversation. He felt physically ill, thinking of one court erasing another, but he wasn’t sure why.

 

His discomfort must have been visible. Hakuryuu reached over and gripped his hand gently, thumbing slow circles on his palm. Judal breathed in, then out, slowly, allowing the touch to center him.

 

“So what about you?” he said, after an extended silence. “How does my dashing prince in shining armor fit into all this?”

 

Hakuryuu smiled faintly, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

 

“I couldn’t just allow my mother to upset the balance of reality itself.” he replied. “Whether her threats are unfounded or not, the fact remains that UnSeelie court has become increasingly volatile towards those of Seelie. I sought an audience with the Queen of Seelie, asking for her aid in stopping my mother’s schemes, but her position prevented her from helping me.

 

Instead, I was approached by one of her kings. The companion I spoke of earlier, he is a prince under this king, and considering I had his prince to vouch for me he offered to back whatever revolt I felt necessary against my mother. So, between his prince and I, we formed a rebellion of sorts. There weren’t many of us to begin with, but our numbers grew enough we began to amass a skeletal knowledge of my mother’s plans.”

 

Judal listened, leaning forward slightly as the prince spoke, fascinated and paying rapt attention.

 

“We had just begun to intercept correspondence between my mother and one of her kings when we were attacked. I’m not sure how, but my mother learned of my location and alliance with the rebellion, and sent her knight to dispose of me. He chased me from my fellows and trapped me where I would be weakest. Ambushed me, weakened me with iron, and…”

 

Judal’s eyes flicked down as Hakuryuu’s hand moved, gripping his wooden wrist. A surge of white hot anger flushed through Judal so quickly it made his head spin. He reached out and tucked his fingers between the wooden ones, which gripped softly.

 

“The bastard knew he couldn’t win.” Hakuryuu spat. “It took an ambush, dead earth and iron for him to feel comfortable fighting me. And now he sends assassins to finish his dirty work because he’s too frightened to come do it himself. _Coward_.”

 

The prince glowered down at his wooden arm for a moment, practically seething. With a slow exhale, his grip loosened and he hung his head. For a moment, he was still, collecting himself. When he raised his head the anger was gone, and he reached out to cup Judal’s cheek.

 

He allowed himself to be drawn into the prince, eyes fluttering shut as Hakuryuu kissed him. The kiss was long and slow, communicating without words. As they parted, Judal chased Hakuryuu’s mouth, brushing fleeting kisses against his lips. The prince gave him another, firmer kiss.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hakuryuu murmured. “That was a lot to press on you all at once.”

 

“No, I wanted to know. I asked.”

 

“It doesn’t make it less daunting.”

 

Judal shrugged, and though he was still trying to shake off the strange feeling of unease, he climbed into Hakuryuu’s lap. The fae wound his arms around him, pulling him even closer and smiling as he settled his full weight on his thighs. Judal regarded the prince thoughtfully for a moment, then leaned down and kissed him again.

 

“You’re here.” he said, and then kissed him again. “With me.” Another kiss, open mouthed and warm. “Not there with them.”

 

Hakuryuu hummed, pushing his hands under Judal’s sweater so he could touch the flat of his stomach and the sharp curve of his sides. The cool fingertips raised goosebumps on Judal’s skin.

 

“That I am.” he agreed. “I am here with you, and only you, sweetling. And you needn’t concern yourself with those matters anymore.”

 

Judal muttered something incoherent in agreement, silencing them both with a deeper kiss that made Hakuryuu’s hands clench on his hips. The movement of their mouths was thoroughly distracting, which is what he had counted on to begin with. Unease still rested heavily in his stomach, and the more Judal tried to ignore it, the more he wondered why it was there at all. Sidhe wasn’t his concern. So why did it feel like it was?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Virikas** \- _Never more than eighteen inches tall, these unpleasant spectral entities can be recognized by their flaming red color and their horribly pointed, bloodstained teeth. They gather outside the homes of men soon to die and jabber excitedly. To prevent this, people can erect a small shrine in their honor and burn daily gifts of flowers and spices for them._
> 
> Phew, I'm glad I got this chapter out of the way. I know it was a lot of plot to dump at once, but I promise we'll get more into the specifics as the story goes on! Next chapter is an Insight, so we'll be going back to Sidhe for a bit to see how things are progressing in their world.
> 
> We're heading towards the climax of this arc! Thank you everyone for sticking with me!


	21. Insight the 4th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was commissioned by a lovely fan of this fic ( @moon-hime on Tumblr ) to draw something cute with our protagonists in this universe! It was a fantastic experience to know my story was so well loved, and I'm quite happy with how the art turned out. 
> 
> [[ Artwork Here! ]](http://orsa-verba.tumblr.com/post/157906395325/chiekahakuen-commission-for-moon-hime-2-2)

Once, when she was very little and life had been different, Kougyoku found herself in the presence of the First Prince.

 

She had been nervous to begin with, he seemed dreadfully imposing to her at the time, but this feeling was quick to fade. The magic that whispered through the air around him was calming, like the soft caress of the first autumn breeze. At the time, all she had been able to think was that this person truly embodied their court.

 

It was a blurred memory now, for it had been long ago, but if she closed her eyes and thought about it she could recall the kind curve of his mouth and the softness of his voice.

 

His death, the death of his brother and the King along with him, marked a great change in the court. But not as drastic a change as it should have. The reaction to the death, to the sorrow, to the young prince trapped in his bed and branded by flames, was all too contained.

 

The emotions in Kougyoku’s chest had been so big she felt they would eat her from the inside out, and yet everyone around her kept a straight face.

 

She could remember sitting on her eldest brother’s knee as he ran a comb through her hair, readying her for bed. There were sisters and attendants to do this, but there he was anyway, doing it himself. Looking back, Kougyoku wondered if it was really for her sake, or for his own.

 

A question had tumbled from her lips at that time.

 

 _Elder brother En,_ she had asked quietly, looking at the floor. _Is UnSeelie… just a cruel place? Is our court only made up of deceitful people with unkind intentions?_

 

Kouen had remained silent for some time, running the comb through her hair. He braided her hair in silence, and when he was done tying a silk ribbon around the end of the plait, he spoke.

 

 _Fae are driven by our own desires. Any fae, of any court, may desire to be cruel, or desire something else and act cruel to achieve it._ he had said, resting his hands on her little shoulders. _UnSeelie is no more a place of cruelty than anywhere else has the capability to be. What defines us now is the actions of our Queen._

 

At the time, she had already understood what he meant. A court was influenced by the whims and persona of their Queen, their legacy written in the blood she chose to spill. With the death of the King and his sons, the nature of their court had been decided.  

 

The peace of the court was paper thin. As the schism widened, the cracks in the court became clear.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hakuei, can you shut the door please? The chatter outside is distracting.”

 

The elder cousin paused, then set aside the spider’s silk she had spun around her fingers and rose from where she sat. She shut the door to the sewing room, silencing the noise from the hall outside.

 

Kougyoku did not bother with thanks. An act as small as that was hardly going to be considered a debt, but she had always preferred to be cautious. Especially as of late.

 

Since the disappearance of the Prince, many things had happened. Kouen made contact with the rebellion, and an alliance had been formed between themselves and the lesser half of the UnSeelie royal family. Several lower ranking members of the court had gone missing, replaced with forgettable figures of Koumei’s choosing, all carefully beginning to weed themselves into the inner workings of the palace. Kouha had been on several long hunting trips, and each time he returned, it was with a few more fae following behind him.

 

Kougyoku had perhaps the most important part to play in the unfolding drama. As the Queen’s handmaiden, she was placed directly beside their greatest enemy, and thus in the best position to spy on her. The things she saw and heard were all worth noting, now, the littlest changes in the Queen’s mannerisms recorded in her mind. Anything may be of importance, anything may be a hidden weakness.

 

Of course, the Queen was expecting this treachery. Gyoukuen was not a Queen who ruled through love and adoration, she ruled through devotion and fear. It was natural for her to expect threats from every opening in her lifestyle, and chiefly among them her own blood.

 

The Queen was careful to reveal very little. What she did let slip were all bits and pieces of larger things that did no one any good on their own. Kougyoku didn’t mind biding her time, collecting the scraps and knitting them together until they formed a bigger image. She had been a handmaiden for some time, a child of UnSeelie court even longer, and this game was a familiar one.

 

It was the crescendoing whispers she couldn’t stand. The murmurs about Hakuryuu, his whereabouts, whether or not he was dead, if he was involved with the rebellion, a traitor to the Queen—They followed her throughout the halls, growing louder by the day. True or not, she wanted them silenced.

 

Kougyoku swept her eyes over her cousin. She had settled herself back into her seat, elegant and straight-backed, and returned to the spider’s silk.

 

“…Doesn’t it bother you?”

 

“Hm? Does what bother me?”

 

“What they are saying. About Hakuryuu.”

 

Hakuei glanced up for a brief moment, then looked back to the glittering threads as she wound them around her fingers.

 

“It is not the first time speculation has surrounded this family.” she said. “I try not to concern myself with the ramblings of the ignorant. You should do the same, Kougyoku.”

 

A familiar well of anger began to fill inside her. Hakuei was always like this, always correcting and chastising her as if she were Kougyoku’s mother. Sometimes she went as far as to scold her like a child, like she was still too immature to properly understand the world around her.

 

It made her want to lash out. Venomous words piled themselves on the tip of her tongue, ready to leap from her lips and strike for the jugular. But Kougyoku swallowed them all, pushing down on her indignance in favor of pressing on.

 

“But the things they say, they are paramount to treason if they were true. How can you stand to hear them speak that way about your brother? If it were mine, I know I wouldn’t have the same self-control.”

 

The mild compliment drew Hakuei’s eyes again, critical gaze dusting over her cousin thoughtfully.

 

“Every time a tragedy strikes this family, vicious things are said. These whispers at least are not nearly as unpleasant as the ones I have heard before.”

 

Kougyoku bit her tongue a second time. She knew what whispers Hakuei spoke of, she had heard them too. Long ago, when blood had been spilled and a throne stood empty, when Hakuryuu lay mangled by fire. The difference was that those whispers had been fearful, desperate, as if the palace itself were trying to warn them all of what now lounged on the throne of the Queen.

 

Hakuei hadn’t believed those whispers then, and she would not believe them now. Her love for her mother was unwavering.

 

It was dangerous.

 

“Are you not worried?” Kougyoku pressed carefully. “About Hakuryuu, I mean?”

 

“He is a grown man, he will make his own choices.”

 

“But, he really _is_ missing, isn’t he? He hasn’t sent a letter to the court in so long…”

 

“If he wanted us to be concerned for his wellbeing, he would come home occasionally.”

 

Kougyoku physically recoiled, as if Hakuei had just screamed her words rather than spoke them. An uneasiness gripped Kougyoku’s heart, squeezing painfully as if to warn her about continuing this conversation. That she should not. That this was not something she wanted to know.

 

After the death of their father, Hakuei had practically raised her younger brother. The Queen had a court to run, or such was the widely accepted excuse, but the truth was that even then Hakuryuu had been loathe to entertain his mother’s company. Hakuei was his closest companion, and he had loved her dearly even before tragedy befell their family. After, she became the center of his world.

 

They were close, close enough that she was perhaps the most important thing in the entire world to him. And he was the same to her, or at the very least he _had_ been, the last Kougyoku knew.

 

But Hakuei had never spoken like this before. This didn’t sound like words from her own mouth.

 

 “You don’t mean that, Hakuei.” Kougyoku dismissed, trying to clear the unrest from the air. “You are as worried as I am, I’m sure of it.”

 

Hakuei sighed through her nose, her slender fingers ever moving, ever spinning, twining the spider’s thread around and around.

 

“He has been drifting for some time.”

 

“ _Drifting?_ What in Sidhe are you talking about?”

 

“As if you do not notice, Kougyoku. He spends greater and greater stretches of time away, and never stays long when he returns. His letters come from farther distances each and every time.”

 

Kougyoku opened her mouth to protest, no longer sure if she was seeking information or trying to defend her cousin, but paused. Hakuei’s words wrote themselves out in silver letters in her mind, and Kougyoku felt dread curl in her belly.

 

“…How do you know how far his letters come from, Hakuei?” she asked softly. “He always sends the same falcon. His letters come every month.”

 

“He tells me.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

Hakuei pursed her lips, a pretty frown creasing her brow. Kougyoku could almost see it, the carefully constructed illusion of peace that she lived in fraying at the edges the longer this conversation went on. The pretty words and tailored beliefs the Queen had carefully sewn into place over her daughter’s thoughts beginning to come undone.

 

But it was so much sweeter to live in ignorance, so much easier to live a lie. Hakuei sewed the frayed edges back into place herself, and held them there.

 

“Hakuryuu has been sending me letters ever since he left home.” she said. “To tell me personally that he is well.”

 

“And he tells you where he’s been…?”

 

“He leaves out a great deal about his travels, but yes. He’s always been sure to let me know where he is and that he is not alone. So I do not worry.”

 

Kougyoku’s stomach dropped. _No,_ her thoughts whispered. _Stars, please no._

 

“These letters… Only you two exchange them? No one else knows?”

 

“Mother does.”

 

Kougyoku stopped moving.

 

“It has been so long since he came home, it was really beginning to weigh on her. She misses him, you know? When one of his letters was a few days later than usual, she seemed so distressed, I had to comfort her somehow. My letter had arrived at the usual time, so I showed it to her.”

 

“You… showed it to the Queen?”

 

“It wasn’t as if Hakuryuu and I were discussing anything uncouth. I wanted to reassure her he was well.”

 

Hakuei went on. Kougyoku did not move. She stared at her cousin, her expression frozen somewhere between shock and the casual mask she kept in place day to day. It felt as if someone had scooped her insides out and left her noticeably hollow inside.

 

 _Oh Hakuei,_ she thought, staring at her pitiable cousin. _What have you done?_


	22. Chapter 17

Winter continued to gnaw the fractious energy from the bustling city, and nowadays the radiator never stopped its hissing. The mortal year was drawing to a close, soon the dead of winter would wane into the first shivers of spring, and the season would turn. For now, though, the cold remained pressing against the windowpanes, trying to pry its way into the cozy apartment.

 

Judal’s trips to and from school seemed to last much longer than they had before. Hakuryuu was sure he was imagining it at first, pining like some love struck child, but after a while he began to notice a pattern. In the mornings, Judal left with his usual kiss and lopsided smile, his bag slung over one shoulder, energetic. When he returned, he was far more sluggish, slightly distracted, and his bag always seemed heavier.

 

Hakuryuu felt vaguely foolish for having to ask what was going on. One part of him insisted he should know the answer, even if it wasn’t something that applied to fae, while another part of him was petulantly insisting that he _had_ to know. Judal always gave Hakuryuu his full attention, and lately he wasn’t, and this was making a very childish part of the prince _very_ unhappy.

 

Judal had looked bewildered at first, then hit himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand.

 

“Right! Fae don’t have colleges!”

 

“No, we do not.” Hakuryuu had replied tersely, feeling a flush of embarrassment threatening to climb up his neck. He felt foolish for not knowing something Judal found so incredibly basic.

 

But Judal had only grinned at him, as if aware of his discomfort and wishing to alleviate it.

 

“I’ve got finals coming up. It’s all these tests and assignments that are due at a really specific time, to gauge how I’m doing in class and shit. It kinda decides whether I pass or fail.”

 

“Oh.” He felt even more foolish now. “Is there something I can do to help?”

 

“Nah, this is all on me. Don’t worry about it, Hakuryuu, I’ll be done before you know it.”

 

He was not, unfortunately.

 

It may have been Hakuryuu’s imagination, but it felt like the hours Judal was away at school dragged on exponentially longer now. Being left to his own devices in the middle of the day was not unusual, but it had become habit that once a certain hour was up, Judal’s attention was his again. Only, it wasn’t now, because Judal seemed to be perpetually buried in his studies.

 

Hakuryuu hadn’t realized just how much he’d come to depend on the time he spent interacting with his host. He felt significantly moodier now than he had just weeks before, and several times more clingy than usual. At one point he spent almost an entire day brooding over how ridiculous the concept of mortal “higher education” was, and how he’d very much like to go raze the damn school to the ground.

 

The prince’s sulking did not go unnoticed. Judal migrated from his room, where his mostly-cleared desk sat waiting to be worked upon, out into the main room where Hakuryuu was. He took to laying on the floor, orbited by a scattered circle of study materials Hakuryuu didn’t even try to comprehend. Ordered chaos was how Judal seemed to organize himself, and it was best to just leave him to it.

 

Judal was the type to lose himself in an activity for hours once he was focused on it, so it wasn’t as if the change of location made them interact any more than before. Still, the close proximity did wonders to quell the insistent muttering of the prince’s thoughts.

 

Hakuryuu would busy himself brewing tea and puttering about the apartment, tending to whatever flora he’d taken a liking to that day. He made enough tea for two, often swapping the mugs at Judal’s side several times in the same evening so he always had a warm drink. After one near-spill, he learned to put the mugs far enough from Judal he couldn’t bump into them, but close enough he could blindly reach out and pick them up.

 

Even as focused as he was, Judal was never still. His hands were always fumbling and scribbling, his back twisting, or his whole body contorting from sitting to laying to rolling over and back again. He would go squirming off in an entirely new direction without meaning to, and end up almost a foot or more away from where he had started. At times like those, Hakuryuu would gently nudge him back towards his circle of schoolwork as he passed.

 

When the prince ran out of distractions and his mind was a mess of urges to tear all those stupid papers away from Judal and take their place as the center of his attention, he would sit and watch him. The first time he did it, it was only in an attempt to pacify the thing in his chest that craved his lover near constantly, but it became a habit.

 

Simply watching Judal toil away at his schoolwork was far from dull. There were always movements, mannerisms, subtle shifts in expression, for Hakuryuu to observe. His mouth would move unconsciously as he read, though his voice was silent, forming words and equations only he seemed to follow. Sometimes he would murmur an answer to himself as if hearing it aloud would solidify it. Hakuryuu had to look away now and again, for Judal worried his lips as well, and when he released them they were flushed red and almost begging to be kissed.

 

And then, one night, Judal fell asleep on the floor. Hakuryuu had dozed off on the couch some hours prior, and when he came awake he found all the lights still on and his host on the ground, head on his arms. He was snoozing peacefully, a pen still dangling from his hand; clearly, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

 

“Judal?”

 

Hakuryuu uncurled from the couch to kneel beside his lover.

 

“Judal.” he repeated, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Judal, wake up.”

 

His voice seemed to rouse Judal, who grumbled, shook his head, and blinked his eyes blearily. He lifted his head, only to yawn widely.

 

“H’kuryuu?” he mumbled, easing himself up on his elbows. “Wha’ time ‘s it?”

 

“Late. You fell asleep studying, sweetling.”

 

Judal groaned audibly and let his head fall back against his arms. He only stayed there a beat before slowly pushing himself up. He muttered something about bed, pressed a lazy kiss to Hakuryuu’s mouth, and then shuffled himself off towards his bedroom.

 

This too became a pattern. Judal spent increasingly late nights awake on the floor, the mess of papers and files and sticky notes growing larger by the day. He would fall asleep without warning, and stay that way for an hour or two before suddenly jerking awake and getting back to work. Hakuryuu decided, after the first night Judal slept a collective three hours and nothing more, that he did not like this habit.

 

Attempts to subtly force Judal to sleep were for naught, however. When he stopped making him tea past midnight, Judal just kept working without it, which only led to him being drowsier in the morning and cranky at night. Turning most of the lights off just meant Judal squinted more, making noise didn’t seem to disturb him, and eventually Hakuryuu gave up.

 

He didn’t like seeing Judal anything other than his usual, energetic self. This weary Judal who seemed to stumble through the day, mumbling and slurring half his words, if he wasn’t snapping them, wasn’t right. These “finals” sounded important, but they couldn’t be _that_ important.

 

Hakuryuu had never been one to wait for someone else’s permission to do what he believed was correct. The next time Judal fell asleep amidst his schoolwork, he patiently counted the minutes until an hour had passed. When his lover still showed no immediate signs of waking, he decided that was quite enough for one night.

 

Judal hardly stirred when Hakuryuu rolled him gently onto his side and hoisted him into his arms. The comfortable weight of him, far lighter than he expected, even having carried him before, made a small smile curl Hakuryuu’s mouth. He allowed himself a brief moment to just relish how well Judal fit cradled against his chest like this, warm and light and perfect.

 

He continued sleeping, head rested against Hakuryuu’s shoulder, as the prince took measured steps towards his room. Cautious steps meant it took almost twice the time to cross the wooden floor, but it was worth it to ensure he did not wake his slumbering host. The responsible thing to do would be to wake him so he could finish whatever work he’d been assigned that evening, but Hakuryuu didn’t feel like being responsible.

 

As he eased his lover’s lax body from his arms, Judal’s eyelashes fluttered. He shifted, brow creasing before he opened his eyes to look up at Hakuryuu. The fae hovered over him, struggling to resist the urge to descend upon him and draw as many sleepy moans from his mouth as he could. Another night, perhaps.

 

“Hakuryuu… Where….?” Judal mumbled, brow furrowing in half-awake confusion.

 

“In your room, Judal, on your bed. You fell asleep again.”

 

“I…? Shit, I gotta—“

 

“Shh, sweetling,” the prince hushed gently.

 

Hakuryuu rested a hand on Judal’s shoulder, pressing him back down against the mattress. Judal didn’t even feign a struggle, allowing himself to be laid back down.

 

“The only thing you have to do is rest. Everything else can wait.”

 

“But…”

 

“ _Hush_ ,” Hakuryuu crooned, pitching his voice low and sweet. The effect on Judal was immediate, the last of the resistance draining from his body like water from cupped hands. “You must let yourself sleep, Judal. All you’ll do is hurt yourself this way, and I can’t bear to see that.”

 

One of Judal’s hands lifted, feebly pinching the hem of Hakuryuu’s sweater between his fingers. There was a pitiful, dissatisfied expression on his face.

 

“But… dinner, I promised I’d finish and we’d have dinner together…”

 

Hakuryuu’s heart swelled in his chest until it felt as if it were pressing against his ribs. It was impossible to keep the pure _affection_ from his face, and the smile he gave Judal made his cheeks turn pink it was so adoring.

 

“There will be other dinners.” he promised gently, ghosting his fingers across Judal’s forehead to brush aside his bangs.

 

“Are y’mad at me…?”

 

“Not at all, sweetling.”

 

“I don’ wanna sleep…”

 

“You need to.”

 

“Stay with me, then?”

 

Judal’s eyes were still only half opened, distant and sleepy even as they looked up at Hakuryuu’s smiling face. Even walking the thin line between wakefulness and sleep, Judal was coherent enough to ask things of him that Hakuryuu simply couldn’t refuse.

 

“Of course, my Judal.”

 

Hakuryuu settled himself onto Judal’s bed, nudging and pulling at his lover until they were in the center of the mattress, tucked under the comforter. Instinctively, Judal seemed to cocoon himself into the warmth of his blankets, burrowing himself against Hakuryuu’s chest at the same time. A heartbeat passed where the fae fought for control of his actions with a far more devious side of his mind, and won. He wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling him snugly against his chest.

 

Judal sighed, almost lost between the blankets and Hakuryuu’s embrace. His long hair was still loosely braided, but had begun to come undone against his faded sheets.

 

“ _Sleep, Judal._ ” Hakuryuu breathed, magic whispered into his words.

 

The spell drifted lazily through the air, like a feather tossed up and left to its own devices to fall back down. It wafted and swayed and fluttered until it fell against Judal’s ears, then tickled its way inside him. Technically, this was use of magic on his host’s person without permission, and perhaps in the morning Judal would punish him for that.

 

He would take the punishment. It would be worth it to feel Judal go boneless in his arms, succumbing to a deep, all-consuming slumber. Hours would pass as he rested, but by the time he woke in the morning it would feel as if days had passed. All the sleep he had missed would be returned to him, and he would wake refreshed and revitalized once more.

 

Hakuryuu pressed a gentle kiss to Judal’s forehead.

 

“Sleep well, my Judal.” he whispered softly, as his own eyes fluttered shut.


	23. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for posting this chapter as late as I am. I'm sure some of you were wondering if there was going to be a chapter today, and it's my fault for not making a more widespread announcement about it. I could have waited until tomorrow to post this, but I wanted to keep to my promise of Monday updates.
> 
> That being said, it took all this extra time because I wanted to finesse it as much as possible! I've been waiting to write this chapter for a while, and I got a little overwhelmed with it when I finally sat down to spell it out.
> 
> As of this chapter, the **Explicit Sexual Content** warning is going to be added to this story! We will be going from "Not Rated" to "Explicit" as well. I hope everyone enjoys!

The number of murderous fae that lurked outside the courtyard gate dwindled. Soon enough, their visits had grown so infrequent that daily life seemed almost mundane. Hakuryuu’s sword rested in the living room, sheathed and quiet. It felt as though it had been too long since blood had been spilled on the concrete for a simple lull in opponents.

 

“Do you think they’ve given up?” Judal asked eventually.

 

Night had descended on the city, which was usually about the time Hakuryuu’s newest foe would make themselves known. But both the prince and his host were in the courtyard, and the street remained quiet.

 

“Maybe,” Hakuryuu admitted. “But it seems almost too convenient.”

 

“The knight guy, he’s afraid of the mortal realm right? Maybe he just thinks it’s too dangerous to send anyone else.”

 

“I doubt he cares about his soldiers enough to really take that into consideration; but you may be right.”

 

Hakuryuu joined Judal by the gate, crossing his arms as he looked out at the street. Parked cars rested along the sidewalk, and lightless buildings stood sentinel across from them.

 

Nothing lurked in the shadows, no fantastical beasts prowled just out of sight.

 

“He cannot know _how_ his assassins have died,” Hakuryuu went on. “For all he knows it could be mortals killing them, not I. Even if he’d like to, it’s unwise to send endless amounts of fae through the veil after me.”

 

Judal glanced at his lover.

 

“You don’t sound convinced.”

 

“I’m concerned. Even if he can’t send fae after me as he has been, I find it unlikely he will just leave me be.”

 

“Why? You’re not causing him any grief as long as you’re here.”

 

“Yes, but by this point he’s already had to trick my mother into believing he’s killed me, and the longer that goes on the closer to a lie it becomes. If she doesn’t know she’s been deceived already.” Hakuryuu sighed through his nose. “He cannot afford for me to go on living.”

 

“Are you worried?”

 

To this, Hakuryuu smiled.

 

“No.” he hummed, slipping his arm around his lover’s waist. Judal allowed himself to be drawn against the prince’s side. “I have far too many reasons to live. There’s nothing they could do to make me leave your side now.”

 

Judal rested his head on the prince’s shoulder.

 

“Promise?” he asked quietly.

 

Hakuryuu kissed the top of his head.

 

“I promise.”

 

And so days continued to pass.

 

The apartment was becoming overgrown with potted plants, almost every surface holding at least one flourishing flora. Two pairs of women’s ankle boots sat by the door, and sometimes only one when Judal zipped up his before leaving for class. Hakuryuu amused himself with paperback books and mortal recipes, and the fridge was regularly stocked with his cooking.

 

At night the couch now lay empty, as its former occupant had taken up a permanent residence in his host’s bed. The bed was not made for two, it dipped under them, and they had to sleep closely tucked against one another to fit comfortably. Hakuryuu found he had an affection for holding Judal while they slept, even if it meant he woke up with a cramp in his shoulder sometimes.

 

The week of Judal’s finals came and went in an unpleasant blur. Most attempts at conversation ended in apologetic kisses and resigned sighs, and the only time they really spent together was when they slept. Judal drank more tea in two days than Hakuryuu had seen him drink in an entire month previously, just to stay awake and focused.

 

And then, blessedly, the damn tests were finished.

 

Judal returned home, dropped his bag, and collapsed onto the couch with something like a triumphant groan. Hakuryuu took it upon himself to pamper him that evening. Their dinner was mostly sweets and a familiar rose petal bath waited for Judal once they were done. The tub had long since been bewitched to keep water warm as long as it was occupied, and he soaked for almost two hours before emerging in a cloud of steam.

 

Judal slept like the dead, and didn’t wake up until one in the afternoon the following day. When he rose, he was sleepy and amicable. He dozed against Hakuryuu’s shoulder on the couch and continued nibbling on his breakfast even after it had gotten cold.

 

Somewhere around sundown, Judal shuffled off to the bathroom after mumbling something about showering. The shower only lasted twenty minutes, but it seemed to have done its job and roused Judal from his sleepy stupor. He was fully awake when he meandered into his bedroom, towel still hanging around his neck.

 

“Good morning!” he greeted the faerie prince currently lounging on his bed.

 

Hakuryuu flicked his eyes up from his book casually, as if he hadn’t moved to the bed specifically to wait for Judal to leave the shower.

 

“It’s almost seven at night.” he noted, eyes following a droplet of water as it slid tantalizingly down his lover’s bare back.

 

“Whatever.” Judal dismissed. “Do you know where my sweater went? The black one with the hole in the elbow?”

 

Hakuryuu was distracted by Judal’s shoulder blades. They pressed up against his fair skin, jagged and beautiful, just like the rest of him. His eyes kept tracing the curve of his lover’s spine to where it disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants, then back up again.

 

Judal had dimples at the base of his spine, and Hakuryuu was sure his thumbs would fit against them perfectly if he had his hands around his waist.

 

“I may have thrown it out.” he said absently, still thoroughly distracted by the bare skin in front of him.

 

“Oh come on, the hole isn’t _that_ bad.”

 

“It’s noticeable.”

 

“So you don’t know where it is?”

 

“No.”

 

Judal laughed. It made his shoulders bounce, and Hakuryuu could see his spine moving beneath his skin. His hips swayed when he moved, dragging the prince’s eyes downwards. The book in his hands was completely forgotten.

 

Judal fished around his drawers until he found something he deemed wearable. The lovely plane of skin Hakuryuu had been busy ogling disappeared under loose cotton as the shirt was pulled on, disrupting his wandering thoughts.

 

He took a moment to watch Judal flick his hair free of the shirt’s collar, silky black cascading down his back. He shut the paperback in his hands, not concerned with finding his place later.

 

“So, that’s it then?” he asked. “Your finals are done?”

 

“Yep! I’m done with school for this semester. Nothing to do but wait for my grades to be posted.”

 

Hakuryuu brightened.

 

“You’re done with school?” he said, adjusting himself to make room for his lover on the bed.

 

Judal stretched his arms over his head, groaning contently as his back popped before plopping himself down on the mattress.

 

“For now, yeah.” he smiled. “I gotta sign up for more classes if I want to go back next semester.”

 

A childish, selfish joy burst in Hakuryuu’s chest. No school meant no long hours without his Judal. It meant more time together, more time to adore him, more time where he was the center of Judal’s attention.

 

“ _If_?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual.

 

College seemed important, at least to mortals, so he had the decency to feel a bit guilty about how eager he was to have Judal not attending class. Not guilty enough to encourage him to return to school any faster, though.

 

Judal hummed, allowing himself to flop backwards onto the bed. Hakuryuu watched him stretch again, though this time the arc of his back was far more obvious.

 

“Yeah. I mean, I _should_.” Judal sighed. He didn’t sound like he was convincing himself, let alone anyone else.

 

“Do you want to?”

 

“I don’t really know.” he shrugged. “I mean, I’ve been in school like two years now, and I still have no clue what I want to major in. That probably doesn’t seem like a long time to you, but I should have, like, _some_ idea what I want to do with myself at this point.”

 

Hakuryuu stretched out, resting his weight on his elbows so he was still looking down at Judal. His cheekbones were still pink from the shower.

 

“Well, what do you _want_ to do? You must have something that piques your interest.”

 

Judal stared at the ceiling, pondering this. After a few moments, he huffed and rolled over onto his side, facing Hakuryuu. The stern crease of his brow was offset by his pouting bottom lip, which the prince found incredibly endearing.

 

“All I _want_ is to be with you.”

 

“You are with me.”

 

“Yeah but _more_.”

 

Hakuryuu took a deep breath, willing himself not to take that sentence too far out of context. The oath that bound him still only filtered out the thoughts it deemed _harmful_ to Judal, which meant there were a whole host of things that slipped through the cracks. His self-control only extended so far.

 

“Well,” he said slowly. “That… is not a “major”, I don’t think.”

 

“It’s not.” Judal acquiesced. “But you asked what I wanted, and that’s what I want.”

 

“I cannot possibly be the only thing you want in life.”

 

“I mean, probably not, but I can’t really think of anything else.”

 

Judal lifted his hand to brush the prince’s hair away from his face. Hakuryuu allowed his lover’s touch, hyperaware of every moment his fingertips alighted on his skin. They skimmed his cheek, then the curve of his pointed ear, and then his jaw.

 

“Life out there is boring.” Judal murmured. His hand fell against Hakuryuu’s chest, over his heart. “Half the time all I’m thinking about is getting home and seeing you.”

 

Hakuryuu wondered if Judal could feel his heart speeding up.

 

“You shouldn’t flatter me so much.”

 

Judal gripped the front of Hakuryuu’s shirt and pulled himself up to press fleeting kisses to the prince’s jaw. His lips skirted the corner of his mouth, drawing a sharp intake of break from the fae.

 

“Why not?” he murmured against his cheek.

 

Hakuryuu twisted his body, rolling them both over so he could catch his lover’s teasing mouth in a proper kiss. He sucked his bottom lip, relishing how Judal shivered beneath him.

 

“You,” he breathed. “Could ask anything of me, and I think I would give it to you.”

 

“Anything?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Judal’s hands laced against the back of his neck, pushing gently until they were nose to nose.

 

Stars, did this boy have any idea what was being proclaimed to him? Fae both yearned and feared to be on this side of the prince’s adoration. Creatures like him did not make promises lightly, they took their word to their eternal grave, and everyone knew how long a thing like him was bound to live.

 

A faerie’s heart was a difficult thing to come by, but once one had it, it was difficult to be rid of.

 

Hakuryuu kissed Judal.

 

It was slow, but hungry, sharp teeth dragging against his lips and tongue seeking the sweetness of his mouth. Judal leaned up into his voracious kiss with a matching hunger. His breath came in soft gasps and little moans between their mouths, coaxing the fae closer with hands in his hair. Hakuryuu came eagerly, shifting his weight so he was prowled over his prone lover.

 

They parted and Judal gasped for air, Hakuryuu panted against his mouth. His hands, he noted, were clenched so tight against the sheets he could count the veins in the back of his flesh palm. When was the last time he had been so desperate for self-control? Had he ever bothered trying to restrain himself with a lover?

 

No, in the past it had never mattered. Lovers were easy to come by, if he wanted one. Pretty fae he entertained and dismissed once he was bored with them, and once or twice a friend he fell into bed with on a whim. The extent of the connection between them was often physical, and even when it trespassed into something more, it wasn’t like this.

 

It was all about the feeling of things. The scent of saccharine lust, the throb of two heartbeats pounding in your eardrums, the intoxicating burn of pleasure through one’s whole body. He could only think of a handful of times where he had cared half as much about the person in his arms as he did now.

 

Judal dragged the flat of his tongue against the prince’s bottom lip, drawing his thoughts back to the present.

 

“Hakuryuu…” he sighed, and the prince shivered.

 

He claimed Judal’s mouth in another lusty kiss, swallowing the second utterance of his name. His name tasted like sugar on crushed ice when it came from his lover’s mouth, melting on his tongue.

 

Judal’s knees parted, and Hakuryuu settled between them. Little, wanton sounds echoed between their kisses, lost amidst desperate breaths of air before they were pressed together again. Hakuryuu’s hair fell loosely about his face as Judal’s hands abandoned it to slide down his chest and fumble at the hem of his shirt.

 

Lust scorched the inside of his ribs.

 

Hakuryuu let Judal drag his shirt up over his head. His hands skimmed down the prince’s back once the cloth was discarded, fingertips ghosting along his spine. Hakuryuu arched back into his touch, sighing into Judal’s mouth as his palms pressed to his skin.

 

Judal’s fingers dragged along his skin, tracing the line of his scars down his back like a cartographer examining a new map. The pressure made old wounds ache, in his heart and on his skin, but the dull throb of them only made the present feel more real. Hakuryuu nuzzled his lover’s cheek, nipping at the soft flesh as Judal continued to chart his back curiously.

 

“Does it hurt?” Judal asked, fingers mapping an island of mottled skin by his waist.

 

“No.” the prince sighed, and then Judal kissed him again.

 

Desire had never felt so gentle before. It was always searing hot and overwhelming, where this felt almost serene. It wasn’t the pace, he’d gone slowly with lovers before, and it wasn’t the atmosphere. It was just… _Judal_. Knowing that it was Judal beneath him, Judal touching him, Judal who moaned and arched and sighed as he slid his hands under his shirt.

 

Hakuryuu pushed the dark fabric up over his lover’s ribs, exposing his torso one tantalizing inch of pale skin at a time. He cupped his hands against his waist and pressed his thumbs into the flesh of his abdomen. Judal hummed, exhaling slowly and then breathing in again, so Hakuryuu could feel the air fill his body. His mouth trailed kisses against his lover’s jaw, down to his throat, where he lingered.

 

It would not be the first time he lavished Judal’s neck with attention, and certainly it wouldn’t be the last. He loved the flicker of Judal’s pulse under his teeth, the vibration of his moans against his lips, and the feeling of sucking marks into his fair skin was divine. He bruised easily, it was almost impossible _not_ to leave marks on his body.

 

There was a spot just below Judal’s ear where Hakuryuu liked to bite and suck until his lover was making desperate little noises in the back of his throat. He latched his mouth there, running sharp incisors against delicate flesh until Judal was squirming. His hands left Hakuryuu’s chest, grappling with his own shirt instead until the prince took pity and helped him pull it off.

 

Judal’s cheeks were flushed. His mouth was red from how much he’d been kissed and bit, and little pink marks littered one side of his neck. Hakuryuu slid his hands down his lover’s chest and watched as Judal rolled himself up into his touch, arching his whole body with a soft groan.

 

Stars, he was beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful. Too beautiful for a mortal.

 

Hakuryuu’s hands had a mind of their own, fingers slipping under Judal’s waistband before he could think to do otherwise. Judal’s cheeks burned, but he lifted his hips invitingly regardless. If he had any words, they seemed to be stuck in his throat.

 

Hakuryuu’s thumbs traced the sharp curve of his lover’s hipbones, eyes fixed on Judal’s as he eased the cloth down his thighs. He had to sit back to pull the sweatpants free of his legs, and as he did he pressed kisses to the bend of his knee and the swell of his calf. Judal made little noises both times, watching through hazy eyes as he was stripped bare.

 

A moment had to be spent just admiring his lover in full. Even after a lifetime spent in Sidhe, Hakuryuu had never seen something as breathtaking as Judal laid out naked beneath him.

 

And in a way, that felt almost ridiculous.  He was a Prince of Sidhe, a child of the UnSeelie court. A fae of bloodlines more ancient, more powerful, more enchanting, than any mortal could imagine.

 

There had been nymphs beneath him, and fae as pale as snow; gorgeous golden men hovered over him and lovely creatures neither man or woman nestled between his thighs. Hakuryuu had kissed and touched and fucked and made love in some of the most stunning places Sidhe had to offer.

 

The UnSeelie palace, hidden away in one of the countless vaulted rooms; its courtyards, on the crisp grasses and amidst the ever blooming flowerbeds; in trees with golden leaves, in fields of flowers with aphrodisiac for pollen, at the precipice of mountains that crested above the clouds.

 

This was but a room. A shabby room full of discarded pieces that someone had built a home out of, littered with material things that only held value on the surface, even to their owner. The clothing he had pulled from his lover’s body was ill-fitting and unimpressive; the bed barely passed for comfortable; the sheets were soft, but hardly compared to the silk he was used to.

 

And yet, Hakuryuu could not imagine a more incredible experience than this. Not because of the place, or the act, or even the pleasure warming his entire body. But because it was Judal, who he adored more than he had ever thought was possible, laying there and trusting him with his body and his heart.

 

_What have you done to me, Judal?_ he thought absently, as he lowered his mouth to kiss along his lover’s chest.

 

He felt, more than heard, the sigh as his lips met skin. Judal’s hands smoothed over his shoulders, down his back again, scratching blunted nails against his skin just harshly enough to raise goosebumps. Hakuryuu moaned against his ribs, whispered affections against his collar, and laid a kiss over his heart.

 

The path his kisses took was winding and with many detours, from ribs to neck, to shoulder, and down again, only to come back up along the other side to drag his teeth over the marks he had left. Judal squirmed delightfully beneath him as he did this, knees squeezing against his sides, hands running through his hair, mouth open in a stream of breathless noises. Hakuryuu moved to the unmarked side of Judal’s neck and bit a matching blemish beneath his ear, slipping out of the last of his clothing at the same time.

 

It took Judal a moment to notice his lover was as bare as he was. His breath caught for a moment when he did, hand skimming down Hakuryuu’s side to brush curiously against the curve of his rear. Hakuryuu rocked his hips forward in response, and the resulting friction made them both gasp.

 

Judal’s legs hooked around Hakuryuu, rocking their pelvises together again, and the prince hissed through his teeth. He hung his head, rolling his hips forward a third time, and then a fourth, grinding against the delicious softness of Judal’s belly. Lashes fluttered, his eyes opening enough to gaze down at the gorgeous boy beneath him. Judal was looking elsewhere, and Hakuryuu followed his lidded gaze down between their bodies.

 

Their cocks were nestled between their bellies, hot, pink, and already slick with need. Hakuryuu found himself bewitched by the little jerks of Judal’s hips when he ground against him, the twitching of his belly as he breathed between moans. He was leaving a sticky mess on the prince’s skin, pushing up against him for more friction, and it was wonderful.

 

Hakuryuu had to tear their eyes away, kiss Judal breathless to distract him, or else they would keep staring until they came, and he had other plans for his lover.

 

Admittedly, he was momentarily thrown off-balance when he considered what came next. In Sidhe, even the weakest fae knew how to _create_ some form of lubricant, but he was pretty sure mortals went about things differently, as they didn’t have magic. He wasn’t sure, for a second, how Judal would react to his preferred method; if he should pull away from the kiss and ask.

 

Then, he considered how his lover watched carelessly as the garden devoured fae alive and dead. Somehow, he doubted that this was where Judal was going to draw the proverbial line.

 

It was second nature to use his magic while distracted by warm lips and a teasing tongue. One of the flowers he had brought into Judal’s room contorted and changed, while Hakuryuu nudged his lover’s legs further apart. When the newly formed bulb opened, a mellow scent wafted from within that made Judal’s whole body relax even more.

 

Their lips parted and Hakuryuu feathered kisses against Judal’s cheeks and chin. He slicked his fingers in the nectar within the bulb, murmuring soft words to Judal he wasn’t entirely sure his lover could hear. His stomach jumped as Hakuryuu drew his fingers down over his belly, a last warning of what was to come.

 

Judal shifted beneath him, though it was difficult to say if it was from excitement or nerves. Hakuryuu rubbed slow circles against his inner thigh with his left thumb, while the fingers of his right hand stroked against his prick. It took a few moments for Judal to relax again, and when he did Hakuryuu brushed his fingers down over his sack, lower, until his fingertips pressed to his puckered entrance.

 

Judal’s hands were suddenly on his cheeks, and the prince allowed himself to be pulled into a heated kiss. He leaned into it, using the distraction to ease one finger into his lover. Judal moaned into his mouth, and it was the most delicious thing he’d ever felt.

 

If his restraint had not already been wearing thin, Hakuryuu would have taken all the time in the world to ease Judal open with his fingers. He would have stretched him at a snail’s pace, drawn every moment out until his lover was a wanton mess, desperate for more. But that would be for another night, he decided. For now he twisted and hooked his fingers, relishing how Judal’s hips jerked and his mouth fell open in surprised gasps and cries of pleasure.

 

Teeth dug into his upper lip, conveying need Judal didn’t have words for. Hakuryuu understood. He pulled his fingers free of his lover’s body and slicked them with nectar again, reaching to pump his own prick. One pass of his hand almost undid him, but he managed to stamp down on his rising orgasm at the last moment.

 

Judal’s knees squeezed against his hips; Hakuryuu gasped assurances against his jaw. He pressed one thigh back against his lover’s chest, resting his forehead against his shoulder before finally, blissfully, pressing inside him.

 

The sound Judal made was incredible. A perfect, keening, cry of pleasure that shook his whole body. Between his voice and the feeling of his body drawing him in, swallowing him in soft, delicious heat, Hakuryuu was almost crippled. He had to stop, just stop and bask in the feeling of their bodies joined together.

 

“Stars…” he breathed, casting his eyes over the vision of his lover arched beneath him. “You are _beautiful_ , my Judal…”

 

Judal whined and rocked his hips, nails dragging lines up Hakuryuu’s shoulder blades.

 

“Hakuryuu,” His hands fisted in inky hair. “ _Hakuryuu_.”

 

How could he ignore a plea like that?

 

He pressed open mouthed kisses against his lover’s skin, easing himself slowly deeper into his pliant body. Judal moaned for him, gasped and mewed until he’d taken the prince to his root. He kissed him, arched his whole body so they were pressed flush together, and rolled his perfect hips. Hakuryuu saw stars.

 

It was difficult to bring himself to pull away. Their bodies rocked together in a disjointed rhythm, desperate for the building heat to reach its peak, but unwilling to disentangle themselves. Judal’s voice pitched higher and higher as Hakuryuu moved inside him, flushed with dizzying pleasure.

 

Their fervent lovemaking only lasted so long. They had yearned to be this intimate long enough that their need had reached its breaking point. Satisfaction was a breath away, one more pass of Hakuryuu’s hips, one more sloppy kiss, one more inch Judal’s body allowed itself to be invaded. Hakuryuu panted into the divot of Judal’s collar as his hand pumped his cock to the staccato of his hips.

 

Judal tightened around him, arms tight around his shoulders, hands buried in his hair, thighs shaking and body clamping down around the prince as he came. His orgasm dragged a sobbing moan from his throat, wracked his body in tremors of pleasure that made Hakuryuu almost collapse. He wasn’t far behind, one last jerky thrust before he spilled inside his lover, filling him intimately with his desire.

 

They gasped for breath, both boneless and unmoving, aftershocks twitching through their limbs. Hakuryuu pulled free of his lover’s body and Judal whimpered in response. A vague, comforting murmur left Hakuryuu’s lips as he laid soft kisses against Judal’s cheek.

 

The lovers laid there, still tangled together, blissful and uncaring of the rest of the world.


	24. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this is late again. I'm sorry everyone, I promise this isn't becoming a habit. My excuse is that I'm sick and my head has been an absolute disaster, and I've been sleeping most of the day in an effort to kick this bug.
> 
> I apologize again!

The lovers dozed for an hour before even entertaining the notion of moving. Judal was still feeling lethargic when Hakuryuu sat up, extricating himself from the tangle of limbs. He could only make a displeased sound and bat at him as he left, lacking the energy necessary to physically pull him back down onto the mattress.

 

The prince chuckled as his lover pawed at him lazily, pausing before he rose to press an affectionate kiss to his brow. While not as satisfying as having the prince back in his arms, Judal accepted the kiss as a temporary substitute and hummed contentedly.

 

Hakuryuu left the room without bothering to get dressed, and Judal watched him go through drowsy eyes. He admired his lover’s figure before he disappeared from sight, his gaze shamelessly wandering down his back and over his ass. Some part of him felt a little awed that he was allowed to call that gorgeous man _his_.

 

Judal laid still a while longer, drifting in and out of drowsiness before finally settling on the idea of rousing himself again. Both arms reached up over his head as he stretched, elongating himself as much as he could, back arched off the mattress. A small groan escaped him as his joints popped and muscles uncoiled before he flopped back down, lax.

 

He rubbed his hands over his face and sighed, casting the last of the sleepiness from his mind. With hands pushed into his hair, he blinked his eyes open to stare up at the ceiling. It stared back, as plain and uninteresting as ever.

 

A moment passed, and then the last hour replayed itself in his head at twice the speed. Suddenly, he was vividly recalling how the delicious soreness throbbing through his body had worked itself into his bones. Every ache and twinge of his muscles made his cheeks _burn_ , each one another reminder of what had just transpired.

 

Judal slid his hands back down over his face, allowing himself a moment of childish embarrassment as the memories ran their course. He refused to be so flustered in front of Hakuryuu, who conducted himself with poise even in the throes of passion _apparently_. He’d be damned if he didn’t maintain at least a façade of calm.

 

An image of Hakuryuu’s face—flushed, panting, hair loose and eyes raking hungrily over Judal beneath him –drifted through his mind. Judal’s heart did a cartwheel in his chest.

 

The bed now felt very lonely without the prince in it with him. It almost seemed worth the effort to command his sore body to get up and seek his lover out, shaky legs or not. He wanted to touch him. Not necessarily intimately, he just wanted Hakuryuu close enough where he could trace lazy patterns over his skin and count the constellations in his eyes.

 

He had almost convinced himself to attempt movement when Hakuryuu returned.

 

The fae had procured several things; a bowl, some towels, a plate of fruit, and a glass tucked into the crook of his arm. Judal watched curiously as the once docile plant on his dresser coiled itself into complicated, netted patterns, forming makeshift shelves in midair. Hakuryuu set the things in his arms on the organic rack, all save the glass of water, which came to rest on the bedside table.

 

“Wow.” Judal said, sounding awed. “Don’t I feel pampered.”

 

Hakuryuu chortled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He did it with such grace, like he had done it a hundred times before and his lover should be just as accustomed to it as he was.

 

“Have we not established that I mean to spoil you rotten, Judal?” he teased.

 

When Judal only continued staring up at him, the prince’s expression softened.

 

“It is common courtesy to ensure that one’s lover is as comfortable as possible.”

 

Judal made a vague noise of dissent.

 

“It’s not _that_ common.” he said dryly.

 

“Well,” Hakuryuu leaned over, pressing another kiss to his brow. “It will be for you.”

 

The prince’s hand nudged its way under him and Judal arched curiously in response. Hakuryuu rested his palm against the small of his back, supporting his weight and coaxing him to lift his hips. Nonplussed, Judal did this too, deciding to just roll with whatever his lover had planned.

 

The largest towel was laid out beneath him, and he allowed himself to be eased back down onto it. Hakuryuu’s hand slid down his side, gripping his thigh and lifting until Judal got the idea and pulled his knees up enough that the prince seemed satisfied.

 

“Try not to squirm.” he instructed.

 

Judal opened his mouth to ask why the hell he would be squirming, but what came out was a surprised squeak. Hakuryuu’s hand had dipped shamelessly between his thighs, elegant fingers probing his entrance for only a moment in warning before two slipped inside.

 

Aside from a small twinge, his body offered no resistance to the sudden intrusion. Heat burned up Judal’s neck to his cheeks, and he tossed his head back, flustered all over again. The prince’s fingers eased inside him carefully, stilling whenever his stomach tightened or his hips twitched.

 

“I told you not to squirm.” Hakuryuu said, twisting his wrist slowly.

 

“Y-you didn’t give me any warning--!”

 

Instinctively, he tried to pull his knees together, only to be stopped by Hakuryuu’s other hand. Judal leveled an accusatory glare on his lover and was greeted with a cheeky smile.

 

“If you move around too much, you’re just going to make more of a mess, sweetling.”

 

“Don’t say that with a smile on your face!” Judal chastised, indignant.

 

“And why shouldn’t I?”

 

“It makes it seem like,” The fingers inside him crooked, and his voice pitched up in response. “Like you’d enjoy that!”

 

Hakuryuu leaned over and pecked Judal’s mouth.

 

“I would.” he admitted casually. Judal’s cheeks flamed.

 

Hakuryuu proceeded to pepper his face with kisses, which served the dual purpose of distracting him and making him relax.

 

It didn’t take Hakuryuu very long to clean the evidence of his pleasure out of him. When he was done, he wiped his fingers on the towel before lifting Judal by the small of his back again to pull it from beneath him. The towel was folded and tossed over one of the vines hovering by the bedside, to be washed later.

 

Hakuryuu plucked one of the smaller towels up, and was about to dip it into the bowl of water when Judal, emboldened now he was more comfortable, chirped;

 

“I want a peach!”

 

He reached vaguely for the plate, which was a few inches from his hand when he stretched.

 

“Ask nicely.” Hakuryuu said.

 

Judal gave an exaggerated pout, which only earned him a bemused smile. The pout became a frown when the towel was dropped and a slice of his desired fruit was picked up instead, only to be held just out of reach.

 

“Hakury _u—u_!” he whined.

 

“Nicely, Judal.”

 

His pouting became more subdued.

 

“Can I please have it, Hakuryuu?”

 

“Yes, you may.” the prince said, pressing the fruit to his lips rather than handing it to him. Judal tugged it from his fingers anyway, tongue flickering over his lips to catch the sweet juice.

 

Hakuryuu fed him a second piece before retrieving the washcloth, which he rung out until it was no longer dripping.

 

Judal, thoroughly at ease now, allowed his legs to be pushed apart until his lover could settle between them comfortably. He licked his lips again and watched as Hakuryuu’s eyes traced the movement almost unconsciously. When he smiled, the prince smiled back.

 

The damp washcloth was applied to his neck first, swiped gently over the marks Hakuryuu’s sharp teeth had left on his fair skin. From there it descended over his collar, and each shoulder, at which point there was a pause for the cloth to be wetted again. Each arm was rubbed with the warm cloth, all the way down to his hands; Hakuryuu took the time to kiss each palm as he cleaned them.

 

 A new washcloth was used to clean his torso, and Judal arched into the attention with an appreciative hum. Hakuryuu skimmed over his nipples twice, clearly fond of the little noise he made when he did so. With back still arched, a third cloth ran down his spine and over his shoulder blades, which Judal was pretty sure was just an excuse to lean over him so their bodies were pressed almost flush together.

 

When Hakuryuu moved on to his legs, he started from his feet and worked his way up. Judal watched him, eyes half-lidded, the gentle washing having lulled him nearly back to drowsiness. He wondered if this would be how it was every time they were intimate. Would Hakuryuu always want to attend to him like this afterwards? What could he do in response?

 

“You know,” Hakuryuu said suddenly, washcloth pausing on the outside of Judal’s thigh. “The first part of you I saw was your legs.”

 

Bewildered by this sudden admission, Judal thought back to the first time they’d spoken. Hakuryuu had been laying down, and he had perched himself on the coffee table the same way he always did when he was thinking. From that vantage point, he supposed the first thing one would see _would_ be his legs, though he’d never thought of that before.

 

Hakuryuu ducked down, eliciting a startled sound from his lover as he laid an open mouthed kiss on his calf. Another kiss rested on the bend of his knee, then just above it, and then teeth dug gently into the sensitive flesh on the inside of his thigh. Judal let out a breathy moan, cheeks warming once more.

 

“I was half delirious with pain at the time,” the prince went on. “Yet all I could think about was how much I’d like these lovely legs wrapped around my neck.”

 

Judal’s heart skipped in his chest, and he sucked in his stomach as Hakuryuu’s mouth ghosted along his inner thigh. Arousal stirred in his belly.

 

“I called you Sleeping Beauty…” he recalled absently, distracted by the tongue wetting a patch of sensitive skin. Teeth followed, drawing another breathy noise from his lips.

 

“That you did.”

 

Hakuryuu switched to the neglected thigh, clamping his mouth over the first piece of flesh that fell under his lips and sucking harshly. Judal heard himself cry out as a new mark was lovingly applied to his skin, sending a bolt of pleasure racing up his spine.

 

Need was beginning to pool in his belly, hot and quivering on his sensitive nerves. He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down in an attempt to make himself focus. While the prince’s attention was on the bruise he was sucking into his thigh, Judal shifted himself, sliding his legs carefully over Hakuryuu’s shoulders.

 

Hakuryuu noticed this as his heel pressed against his spine, and raised his head. The look on his face was positively victorious.

 

“Is that an offer, my Judal?” he asked sweetly.

 

Enough pity existed in the prince that he did not torment his lover into answering him. He made him wait just a heartbeat, then lowered his open mouth to his hardening prick. Judal moaned wantonly as sinfully soft lips slid wetly over his heated skin, talented tongue not far behind. Hakuryuu sucked tenderly at the base of his cock, patiently coaxing him to full arousal.

 

Judal panted hotly, gazing down at the gorgeous fae cradled between his thighs. Hakuryuu had made himself comfortable on his belly, hands gripping the tops of Judal’s thighs as he dragged his tongue from base to tip. His cock twitched in response, and the fae smiled devilishly.

 

He sucked the head into his mouth, humming when Judal attempted to buck up into the delicious warmth. His tongue padded his teeth, jaw relaxing to accommodate the slide of his lover’s girth as it pressed into his waiting mouth. Judal felt himself nudge the back of the prince’s throat, and then Hakuryuu had the audacity to _swallow_ around him, almost ending him then and there.

 

Choked noises became needy gasps and mews as the prince worked his mouth around his need. His head bobbed rhythmically, tongue laving patterns along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock until Judal thought he was going to melt. Once or twice he pulled all the way back, letting go of his prick with a lewd _pop_ before wetting kisses down to his sack. Then back up he’d go, swallowing his lover down again without hesitation.

 

Judal didn’t last very long. His body was still warm from his last orgasm, and the heat of this one was singing his insides with euphoric fire. It was a miracle he still had the coherency to gasp Hakuryuu’s name as his thighs trembled, hands gripping the pillow under his head.

 

The cry that left him as he reached his second orgasm made his voice break for a moment, stuttering out weakly as pleasure rushed through him. It was dizzying, he saw stars and lights dancing before his eyes. Hakuryuu swallowed without preamble, massaging him with his tongue through his orgasm until he slipped from his lips.

 

Judal was once more boneless against the mattress. He didn’t feel he had the energy to even open his eyes more than a sliver to peek through his lashes. He felt, more than saw, Hakuryuu slip from between his legs and prowl over him, kissing his way up to his mouth. The kiss he was given was hot and filthy, tinged with the taste of his own desire.

 

Hakuryuu settled beside him, easing himself into the space between Judal and the wall. Kisses were laid on his temple and the crown of his head, as Judal turned into the prince’s embrace.

 

“Don’t get up this time.” he mumbled against his collar. Hakuryuu’s chuckle vibrated within his chest.

 

“You have my word.” he assured gently, as Judal drifted off.


	25. Insight the 5th

The palace of king Sinbad of the Seelie Court sat sprawled over a rocky islet in the midst of a lavender sea. Mist hung over the water and the air smelled of dew and wildflowers almost every day. A wide strip of land led from the islet to the mainland, and this was the path most took to approach the vibrant palace of the king. During the wet season and the high tide, the sea rose and the pathway disappeared, and then the only way to and from the palace was by boat.

 

However it was common knowledge among those who frequented or resided within the palace that the front gate was mostly meant for visitors, and that side passages and hidden doors were marks of familiarity. Each and every fae who took harbor in Sinbad’s palace had a favored entrance.

 

Alibaba’s preferred path lay on the western side, where the islet swooped down to meet the sea. Here, the foundation of the palace almost dipped beneath the water, and an invisible pathway of slick stepping stones rested just beneath the mist. He had skipped along the wetted rocks since he was but a child, steps light and sure on the slick stones.

 

From the stepping stones the prince would leap ashore, and there was a crevice in a wall through which he would slip and find himself amidst the palace gardens on the other side. It was not unusual for familiar faces to appear from nowhere within the palace, and so he was always greeted warmly once he was spotted.

 

Alibaba responded to these greetings cheerfully, and inquired after an audience with his king.

 

While he waited for summons to meet with Sinbad, Alibaba returned to his own chambers for the first time since before the rebellion had begun. They were as he’d left them; wide windows thrown open and possessions in pleasantly unkempt arrangement, giving his rooms a homey feel. Fresh flowers grew in all the vases, and the gold laced into every piece of furniture glowed merrily in the sun.

 

He bathed in the rose quartz tub in his washroom, lounging in the cool spring water dashed with salts that cleansed the skin and aura alike. As he soaked, he indulged himself in a pipe filled with the dried petals of flowers from the gardens. Breathing in, the taste was a sweet melody of summer, and when he exhaled the plume of smoke was the color of peonies.

 

Alibaba soaked until the pipe was through, then set it aside and slid his body down, fully submerging himself beneath the water. It was tranquil, silent, only the resonating pulse of the magic in the rose quartz and his own heartbeat. A few moments lasted an eternity, and then he drew himself up again, rising to his feet and stepping from the tub.

 

He didn’t concern himself with a towel, leaving it to the breeze and the sunlight to dry his body. A platter of dried fruit and succulent meats had been delivered to his room while he bathed, along with a jug of dandelion wine. With nothing to do until he was granted a meeting with Sinbad, Alibaba fell upon his bed to wait.

 

This is where a servant found him some time later, stretched out atop the disarray of sheets and blankets, teeth tearing through a chunk of meat held between messy fingers.

 

“King Sinbad will see you as soon as you are ready to greet company, my prince.” The servant had the head of an owl, but possessed eight spider-like eyes rather than two. They all blinked simultaneously. “He sends his apologies for not greeting you when you returned.”

 

“Ahh, it’s fine. He was probably busy, wasn’t he?” Alibaba dismissed. He tilted his head back, dropping the meat into his waiting mouth. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

 

The servant bowed, then took their leave.

 

Alibaba stretched luxuriously before hopping from his bed. He licked his fingers clean while he sought after fresh clothes to wear, dressing himself casually, and without real attention to his appearance.

 

The walk from his rooms to the chamber where he would find his king was not particularly long, if one knew the byways and false doors of the palace as he did. It was more of a casual stroll, and did not afford him much time to consider how best to phrase his request.

 

Despite what he had said to Kouen before they parted ways, Alibaba had absolutely no idea whether or not Sinbad would be willing to help them recover Hakuryuu from the mortal realm.

 

It stood to reason that, being involved with the prince’s affairs _thus far_ , Sinbad shouldn’t have a problem extending further help. But Alibaba knew himself to be notoriously emotional in his thinking sometimes, especially when it came to friends and close comrades. And for him, none were closer than Hakuryuu.

 

However, it was entirely possible that Sinbad may choose to write Hakuryuu off completely and proceed without his support. The rebellion’s initial goal had been of the UnSeelie prince’s design, but it held even without him there to represent it. Perhaps he would be considered an acceptable loss.

 

Alibaba sighed dismally to himself. He could only hope that his own affection for the prince would sway Sinbad’s decision somewhat.

 

As if sensing a conclusion to his musings, the door to the chamber he sought appeared before him, resolutely posed in the middle of the stonework. The wooden frame seemed to hold itself with the sternness of an elder, observing all who entered it with shrewdness.

 

Alibaba had been there many times, enough that the door’s dour presence no longer bothered him. Beyond it lay one of Sinbad’s favorite meeting rooms, a place where friends felt comfortable and strangers felt entirely unsettled.

 

Through the door, which shut behind him, lay a vast room with only three walls. Where the fourth should have been, there was only an empty cavity, supported by two engraved columns that stretched from floor to ceiling.

 

The floor was smooth stone, but the walls on either side had been left rough, as if carved directly from a mountainside. Sparse furniture decorated the room; rugs and collections of embroidered cushions sat nestled into either corner, and a setting of low couches and a long, squat table rested in the middle of the floor.

 

In the space between these and the columns, a strange structure had been carved near the lip of the precipice. A pool had been gouged into the stone floor, reaching from one end of the room to the other, its depth impossible to tell. It was fed with water from the lilac sea, which came cascading down waterfalls that had been carved into the walls.

 

Two people resided in the chamber when Alibaba entered, one settled comfortably on a couch, watching as the other emerged from the water.

 

Even at a distance, Alibaba recognized the sleek fae that came prowling from the pool. Faded scars wrote history over his skin, interrupted occasionally by patches of glittering scales the color of evergreens. His hair was unruly about his head and long at the neck, and more of those vibrant scales framed his sunflower eyes. Few were permitted to see this fae without his golden armor, needle-like blade slumbering at his hip.

 

To strangers, he was known as _Drakon_ , and to friends, he offered the name _Dragul_. The name was used sparingly, and only by those seldom few who were closest to his heart, for it carried a weight of power with it that was difficult for some to bear.

 

Dragul paced casually to Sinbad’s side, unperturbed by Alibaba’s entrance. The king was holding a towel for him, eyes shamelessly scoping over his knight’s slick skin, hunger barely concealed in his smile. Their hands lingered together when Dragul took the cloth, as if they could not quite bear to pull apart.

 

“I can come back later if I’m interrupting!” Alibaba called out as he crossed the floor.

 

Naturally, this was a jest. There was no interrupting Sinbad and Dragul, because that implied that there was either a beginning or an end to what was between them.

 

“I fear you would be gone quite a while if you were to leave now, my boy.” Sinbad mused in reply.

 

Dragul scoffed.

 

Alibaba’s laughter echoed against the craggy walls, distorting itself around the room in duplicates. He dropped himself onto a couch lined with silk, mirroring his king’s pose with one leg crossed over the other. A companionable nod was shared between himself and Dragul before Sinbad finally dragged his eyes from his knight, turning his attention instead to his prince.

 

Sinbad’s youthful face was always betrayed by his eyes. They were golden discs, molten like the sun on a summer day, entrancing and painfully beautiful to behold. Fae had been known to lose themselves in those eyes, offer everything they possessed to their owner, and crave desperately for his gaze. Lives had been lost, taken by jealous others or themselves, in pursuit of his gaze.

 

Alibaba had been raised under it, though, and as years went by more and more remarked how his own eyes has begun to take on a similar quality.

 

Sinbad smiled.

 

“Welcome home, Alibaba. You have been missed.”

 

“It’s good to be back, Sinbad.”

 

The king gestured invitingly to the table, where there lay a tray of roasted fowl garnished with fresh apples and pear, and a jug of fragrant wine. The fowl had already been picked at, and the wine was a third empty, clearly having been meant for Sinbad’s private consumption.

 

Had this been a casual meeting, he would have gladly partaken of both wine and meat, but Alibaba politely declined. It was best to imbibe nothing the king offered when one wished to discuss business, it was far too easy to lose oneself in the comfort of a good meal.

 

Sinbad’s smile widened.

 

“So,” he began, turning his head so he could watch his knight as he dressed. “Things are proceeding well with our “rebellion” are they? Your last report contained some interesting developments.”

 

“As well as can be expected. It still feels like we’re fumbling about in the dark, but I’m told that our actions aren’t raising much of a stir in UnSeelie at the moment.”

 

“You were _told_ by our new comrades, I assume?”

 

“Lord Kouen, yes.”

 

Dragul flicked his hair free of the collar of his shirt. He twisted one of the long tails as one might ring a cloth, sending a cascade of water to the floor. Sinbad’s fingers twitched, yearning to touch.

 

“From what I had gathered from your friend,” he said. “His family would be of no aid to his goals.”

 

“And I wouldn’t doubt him for a second in that belief, but I met with Lord Kouen myself. His intentions are genuine, and where he goes his siblings will follow without question.”

 

“Do you think him trustworthy?”

 

Alibaba sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair.

 

“I do, but even if I didn’t, I don’t think it matters.” he said candidly. “We need their help.”

 

Sinbad finally drew his eyes from his knight, cocking a brow at Alibaba in question. It was Dragul who responded, however, leaning his hip against the couch as he tied a sash around his middle.

 

“At present, we are moving blindly. We have no timeline for the event we are preventing and no specifics of the event itself.” He finished with his sash and crossed his arms. “We do not even know what it is we are meant to be stopping, only that at some point in the future, it _will_ occur. We are in desperate need of information.”

 

Alibaba nodded his agreement, and Sinbad regarded the both of them thoughtfully.

 

“Very well, I can’t argue with the both of you.” the king sighed, though it came out as something of a whine. Dragul rolled his eyes and Alibaba resisted the urge to snigger.

 

“But,” Sinbad went on. “That is not why you met with Kouen. Tell me what you learned of our friend, Hakuryuu. You omitted that from your letter.”

 

And so, Alibaba told the king and his knight about his meeting with Kouen. His tale wound up the mountain with them, through the snow where life was scarce and up to the clearing where the ambush had laid in wait. Careful mention was made of Hakuryuu’s pursuers, of how he’d helped many of his comrades escape, of just how many fae had been there to meet him on the mountainside.

 

Sinbad’s expression did not change as Alibaba described the freshly grown sapling emerging from the snow, though Dragul sucked in a breath. He had seen too many forests grow, springing to life where so many of their fellows had fallen.

 

When he reached the part about the tear in the veil, where a vacuum was slowly refilling with magic, like cloth being stitched back together, Sinbad’s expression flickered. For a moment there was confusion, then comprehension, then a dark shadow over his eyes. These all passed swiftly enough to be missed, if one wasn’t looking for them, but they made Alibaba’s shoulders tense.

 

“The attack was meant to silence the prince,” Dragul noted, once Alibaba was done. “Not the rebellion.”

 

“Mm.” Sinbad hummed in agreement. “For our purposes, that’s good. We will be able to continue as we are, overlooked. In the end the attack was only dire on the surface, the outcome could be much worse.”

 

The king stopped here and cast an appraising gaze over his prince. Alibaba had always been expressive, his feelings showed through his entire body, and just then he was resisting the urge to leap to his feet and yell at Sinbad for his callous reaction. It wouldn’t be the first time.

 

But he was controlling himself, not out of some ingrained sense of self, but in the interest of protecting his friend. His outburst might sour Sinbad’s mood, and then any hope he had may be lost.

 

Sinbad chuckled through his nose, smiling fondly.

 

“But you don’t care about the rebellion.” he said. “You want to find a way to retrieve Hakuryuu.”

 

“Yes!” Alibaba exclaimed, sitting forward. “Opening a gate to the mortal realm isn’t difficult, and if we sent a small band—!”

 

“I will not send any of our comrades after him.”

 

The despair was immediate to paint itself on the prince’s face.

 

“Then, just me!” he pleaded. “I can glamour myself better than almost anyone, I could be in and out of the mortal realm before anyone noticed I was gone!”

 

“No. You are forbidden from going after him either.”

 

“But--! Sinbad! If he hasn’t returned by now then something must be--!”

 

Sinbad held up a hand, silencing his prince. Alibaba’s mouth remained open for several moments, struggling for words, before he finally shut it. The glare that followed did not impress Sinbad as much as the continued attempt to speak. It was the first time in a long while anyone had sought to defy him.

 

Dragul was watching him from the corner of his eye. He refused to interfere, as he always did, but Sinbad could feel his gaze regardless. There was no judgment or displeasure in it, but he knew his knight did not entirely approve.

 

He had always had a soft spot for the prince they had raised.

 

“Be that as it may, I cannot allow for any reckless rescue party to go traipsing about the mortal realm with my approval. There is too much danger in it. Even if we opened the same gate, in the same place, there is no guarantee you would find yourself in the same place as Hakuryuu.”

 

 _The mortal world is small,_ he read in the prince’s eyes. _It can be searched._

 

“Mortals themselves do not concern me, they are easily bewitched and ensnared—But their creations. Iron and chemicals, false earth that suffocates the life from their world. No, there is too much risk.”

 

Heat had begun to emanate from the golden prince, his hands fisting white knuckled on his knees. Fire rested on his tongue, embers in his throat. If Sinbad were anyone else, he was sure that all of the sun’s great fury would be unleashed upon him right then.

 

Another smile curled his mouth.

 

“ _I_ cannot help Hakuryuu now.” he intoned. “But that does not mean he cannot be helped. Think, my boy. Think like Hakuryuu would, were your roles reversed. Think, and then _do_.”

 

Sinbad flicked his wrist, and Alibaba took this for the dismissal it was. The prince rose and swiftly exited the meeting room, anger threatening to boil from within him and escape through his skin. He contained himself, swallowed it all down until he was several halls away, and then allowed himself to seethe.

 

Yellow flames burst to life around his clenched fists. The fire licked a trail up his arms to his shoulders, snaking about his skin in aimless patterns, rising and falling in time with his breathing. The flames danced, sending sparks to the stone beneath his feet as he walked briskly through the corridors. He had no destination in mind.

 

His anger was swift to burn away through, dimming down to a low simmer and finally resting itself in the pit of his stomach, where it smoldered gently. Alibaba ran both hands through his hair, following some nameless instinct as it led him through the palace.

 

If Sinbad would not send anyone, and he was forbade from going, then what was there to do? Kouen said himself that he could not leave UnSeelie court, and if he could not then surely his siblings were in similar positions. There was no one else, that Alibaba could think of, who he could call upon.

 

He gnashed his teeth and gripped his hair, feeling the fire threaten to leap from his skin again. But he forced himself to be calm. To think of what his king had said.

 

Sinbad had told him to think _like Hakuryuu_. If it were him stuck in the mortal realm, in who knew how much danger, what would Hakuryuu do about it? Well, Alibaba would _like_ to think his friend would leap through the nearest rift and hunt him down, but that seemed too hasty a response.

 

There was a riddle here. Alibaba released his hair, crossing his arms as he walked and began to organize his thoughts.

 

What would Hakuryuu do _were he in his place_. That was the important part. Alibaba thought of his place explicitly, making careful note of all things relating to himself and the current circumstance. The conclusion he came to was thus:

 

Given that time had passed since the attack, and the discovery of the ambush and subsequent escape, Hakuryuu wouldn’t leap to the most emotional conclusion. In the moment, if he had found everything right after the attack, maybe. But given time to think things over, he would surely be more rational.

 

Hakuryuu had no king to rely on, and he himself often said how he could not turn to his family. Without these things, that left just the rebellion and his own self to depend on. Someone had to lead their comrades, and Hakuryuu would never abandon that post. Likewise, he would be hesitant to send any of their number on a mission unrelated to their cause.

 

So what would he do? Who would Hakuryuu, who seemed to stand alone in UnSeelie court, call upon in a moment of need?

 

It all clicked.

 

Of course.

 

He would call upon someone that he would ask for aid in no other circumstance. Someone he trusted, but warily, always conscious of the vicious teeth so close to that hand that fed.

 

But for _Alibaba_ to ask them for aid… Sinbad had seemed sure of his conclusion, but that meant very little when it came to dealing with ancient things like _them_. Because it was Hakuryuu, perhaps he stood a chance at escaping an encounter intact, but—

 

There was nothing to do but try. Another fae would be hesitate to summon creatures like them from the depths of Sidhe, to dare to impose on them and ask for their aid without proper retribution at the ready. Alibaba was a special kind of brazen, though, and Sinbad knew it.

 

Back through the halls, up stairways and through passages, in the meeting room Alibaba had abandoned, the king and his knight remained.

 

“Sinbad,” Dragul sighed. “You could have just _told_ the boy what to do. There was no need for games.”

 

“Ah, but what’s the fun in that?”

 

“His friend may be in peril, and you are thinking of games?”

 

“I always am, my dear dragon.”

 

Exasperation knitted the knight’s brow as his king extended his hand towards him. He had been inching across the couch, trying to sneakily grab hold of him, since Alibaba left. Dragul remained staunchly where he stood, just out of reach.

 

“Besides,” Sinbad went on, grinning as his fingertips finally brushed his dragon’s elbow. “It is good for him to think for himself. His emotions cloud his eyes at times, he must learn to see through them.”

 

“ _You’re_ the one who riled him up, you know.”

  
“Ah, was I?”

 

A retort was on the tip of Dragul’s tongue, ready to lash his king appropriately for his behavior, when there was a knock at the door. Both men looked up, and Sinbad called for their guest to enter.

 

A handsome fae with silver hair and a smattering of freckles over his nose entered. Sinbad beamed at the sight of him.

 

“Ja’far! You just missed Alibaba, he was in a real temper—“

 

“Your fault, no doubt.”

 

“Says who!”

 

Dragul and Ja’far exchanged bemused looks. Sinbad huffed, as if he were really insulted.

 

“Much as I would love to scold you for toying with our prince’s temper,” Ja’far said. “I am afraid I am the bearer of bad news.”

 

He crossed the room to Sinbad’s side, pulling from his sleeve a letter sealed with silver wax. Both knight and king straightened at the sight of the UnSeelie seal, gazing warily at the letter as it was transferred to the king’s hand.

 

It was opened with caution, the seal broken first. Dragul’s shoulders tensed, as if expecting some backlash of physical force to strike them, and did not relax even when it did not come. Sinbad unfolded the letter, holding it open so his two companions could read over his shoulders.

 

Their eyes skimmed the neatly inked letters.

 

“Ah.” Sinbad said, after a moment of silence. “It appears I am being accused of kidnapping the Prince of UnSeelie court.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, my friends, we enter the final stretch of the first arc. I give us another four chapters, give or take, until this arc is complete. I hope everyone is ready for the conclusion!
> 
> As for this chapter, I wanted to develop Alibaba a little more, since he's going to get his own focus chapters later on when his lover interest gets introduced. Sinbad also showed up, which wasn't originally in my plans, so I took the chance to introduce some of his people as well!
> 
> The tags **Sinbad** , **Drakon** , and **Drakon / Sinbad** have been added to the fic! I don't know how often they'll be showing up in the story at the moment, but they're definitely there in the background. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you thought!


	26. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I added a [ [Buy Me a Coffee?](https://ko-fi.com/A18310GD) ] button to my profile, and my art blog. I thought I'd let everyone know here too. Don't feel obligated, but if you've got anything to spare, it would be wildly appreciated. 
> 
> That said... welcome to the beginning of the end to this arc, my friends.

“ _Auck--!_ ”

 

Judal retched audibly, drawing the attention of a few passing strangers.

 

Whatever he had just bought from the corner store, it was absolutely _not_ apple juice. He forced down the mouthful of foul liquid, his face contorted with disgust. The taste was _vile_ , and the drink settled uncomfortably in his stomach, sloshing around enough to make him queasy.

 

He examined the bottle as he walked, looking first for some evidence of mold or mildew, and then glancing over the list of contents warily. Apple concentrate, water, and a handful of other common ingredients. There was nothing there to explain why one swig of the stuff made him want to empty his stomach.

 

“Weird.” Judal muttered, and tossed the bottle into a trashcan on the corner as he passed.

 

Maybe he was just spoiled or something. Everything he’d eaten and drunk lately had come almost entirely from the courtyard garden and only traveled as far as Hakuryuu’s hands in their tiny kitchen before being consumed. The last apple juice he’d had had been hand pressed by the fae himself.

 

Chefs were always talking about refined taste buds and whatnot, weren’t they? And vegans and vegetarians couldn’t go back to eating meat without warning either, or they’d make themselves sick. Maybe processed food just no longer agreed with him.

 

Judal’s stomach settled from a roiling mess to a displeased gurgle as he walked, and he dismissed thoughts of his newfound tastes as it did. It didn’t matter, really, he’d only bought the juice because he was out and didn’t have anything on hand. This was just another strange occurrence to be brushed aside.

 

There were a lot of those, these days. Flowers blossoming under his fingertips, silver jewelry that seemed to follow him around the store while window shopping, only to end up in his pocket, freak storms that downed the city’s power for almost six full hours. The world was full of inexplicable things, little mysteries that may or may not have anything to do with faeriekind. Too many, in fact, to consider all at once.

 

Becoming enamored with the realization that magic was real was all too easy, and the urge to look for it in everyday life was constant. At first, even Judal had kept his eyes wide, heart racing, hoping for a glimpse of that mysterious power in the mundane world around him. The truth was, though, it didn’t really matter if magic was to be found or not.

 

Magic was subtle and tricky, it slipped in and out of the periphery of your vision, never quite luminous enough to be caught. Actually getting a good, solid look at it, like Judal had, was rare for human beings. So maybe the flower, the silver bracelet around his wrist, the storm, maybe they had all been magic. Or, maybe they were just coincidences. One could drive themselves mad trying to discern the difference between magic and happenstance.

 

Though returning to the topic of the storm, it had certainly caused a lot of trouble.

 

As the new year turned, the winter had bled from the city sluggishly, replaced with rising temperatures that oozed through the streets. The day of the storm, the weather forecast had been good. Nothing but blue skies and sunshine for the entire week, temperatures hiking up to the mid-sixties by Friday. Spring was tumbling in.

 

And then, from nowhere, the sky had roared like some angered beast. A clap of thunder so loud it seemed to almost physically shake the city rent the air, and then came the clouds. Rather than roll in, they seemed to simply blink into existence, dark as the night sky and heavy with rain. There had been one last warning snarl from the sky, then the clouds had simply _opened_.

 

Rain had come down in blinding sheets, smothering the noise of the city in the torrent. The radio announcer stopped tracking car accidents once it reached the double digits, and instead issued copious warnings about low visibility due to the storm. Thunder grumbled and wind howled, but Judal never did catch any streaks of lightning in the churning sky.

 

Hakuryuu had insisted they stay inside, and Judal wasn’t about to argue with him, not with the weather like that. It fell to him to find ways to occupy himself and his uncharacteristically fractious lover. Apparently, Hakuryuu was not fond of storms, though he denied it when it was brought up.

 

There had been cooking, which involved a lot of bumping into each other in the small kitchen and Judal making a nuisance of himself. The meals themselves were overly complex, drawn out in both the making and the partaking to waste a bit more time. Hakuryuu read aloud to Judal from whatever book happened to suit him at the moment, and then to himself when his lover dozed off, head in his lap.

 

They chatted, as they always did, about everything and nothing. Hours passed.

 

When the power went out, the apartment was dark enough that reading seemed ill-advised and trying to amuse themselves with conversation was growing dull. There were better things to do in the dark, Hakuryuu had murmured against Judal’s ear. So they had retreated to the sanctuary of their bedroom, where the door barely managed to muffle the sound of the rain.

 

Sleep came in intervals, some intentional and some not. The rain didn’t stop until late, late into the night, and they missed whenever the power came back on. In the morning, Hakuryuu had immediately gone to the courtyard to assess the damage, and Judal took the opportunity to listen to the radio and check the fridge.

 

“ _…and local meteorologists are still flummoxed by yesterday’s storm; some are calling it an early season monsoon, but others say that it’s an unprecedented meteorological event._ ”

 

Judal had only been paying half attention to the droning voice of the radio announcer, more preoccupied with the contents of the fridge. But he caught bits and pieces.

 

“ _Flood warnings had to be issued to the entire county, but it appears that only the city was seriously affected by the storm. In fact, reports outside the city limits claim to have had perfect weather._ ”

 

Some of the perishables had, unfortunately, spoiled.

 

It was easy to separate the items in the fridge into what came from the garden and what came from the farmer’s market, but itemizing any further than that was more Hakuryuu’s department than Judal’s. He had considered waiting for the prince to return upstairs to ask him what he wanted replaced, but then;

 

“ _…Extensive damage to personal and public property. Maintenance teams have been working since late last night in public parks and gardens, and police are monitoring traffic around affected roadways._ ”

 

If concrete had been damaged by the downpour, the courtyard was probably not faring terribly well. Rather than disturb the likely distraught fae, Judal wrote him a note, left it where it would be found, and went out shopping on his own. ( He signed the note with a heart, because he was fucking _adorable_ thank you very much, and it made him feel better about not kissing Hakuryuu before he left. )

 

The farmer’s market wasn’t open that day, unfortunately, so Judal had whipped out his phone and searched for the most pretentiously organic markets he could find. There weren’t many that sounded like they would fit Hakuryuu’s standards, so he had assumed it would be an easy trip. Naturally, following that thought, he wound up wandering around the city for hours.

For some reason, the map on his phone had been wrong multiple times that day. He had noticed his phone glitch here and there over the past few weeks, but hadn’t thought much of it until that day. Maybe it was time for a new phone? But the map came from the internet, so he figured that couldn’t be it.

 

Judal put it down to messed up power lines and moved on.

 

Eventually his phone got so frustrating that Judal pocketed it and just asked directions from random shopkeepers instead. This led to the rather unpleasant experience with the apple juice, and a lot more wrong turns through the city. His legs were tired, and he missed Hakuryuu.

 

By some turn of luck, not only did he actually manage to find one of the markets he had been looking for, but it also turned out to be _just_ what he’d been hoping. It was set up in a huge warehouse, which had apparently been unaffected by the storm, and was a monthly market that stayed open for two weeks at a time. Prices were higher, no doubt because securing a booth was more expensive, but it didn’t matter. Judal was just happy to finally get the errand over with.

 

Most things on his list were replaced after one tour through the market, and a second round had his stomach growling. He hadn’t had breakfast, or lunch by this point, and he finally broke down and bought himself food.

 

“Oh thank _god_.” he mumbled to himself, mouth half-full of quiche. Apparently, his senses weren’t so far gone that flaky crust and eggy filling were off the table.

 

Judal scarfed down the quiche and drank a bottle of fresh milk to wash it down. The milk was sweet, fresh, and heavy, even better than the stuff they usually bought. Hakuryuu loved fresh milk, and Judal had been craving it recently too, so he doubled back to buy a jug of it, never mind how heavy it was going to be.

 

Laden with groceries and feeling accomplished, Judal set out in the direction of home. As he meandered through the streets, he considered whether to direct himself towards a bus stop or the train station. The train was underground, which made an odd sense of claustrophobia hover in the back of his mind, but the bus… For some reason, getting into either vehicle didn’t seem appealing.

 

_I’m gonna regret walking._ he thought, already past both modes of public transit.

 

The bags were heavy, and after walking all day, his legs were starting to ache. But it wasn’t unpleasant. Judal had never cared much for straining his body past its first whine of discomfort, yet lately he’d had the strangest desire to go wandering around. Walking, running, he’d even raced Hakuryuu back to the apartment after one of their outings.

 

( He had lost, but considering Hakuryuu was some kind of faerie warrior prince, that didn’t really shock him. )

 

The walk home wasn’t the worst thing in the world, and the day was crisp and clear. Around him, the city made its music out of car horns and sirens, the hustle and bustle a chaotic melody. His heart beat in time with the footsteps of the working class and business owners, and Judal smiled to himself as he strolled.

 

He breathed in deeply, tasting the acrid, familiar city on his tongue, and exhaled slowly.

 

It all happened very, very quickly.

 

Before he saw them, he felt their presence. A crushing weight on his lungs that clenched like fists around his insides.

 

Then, someone turned off the light.

 

A moment passed as Judal’s eyes drifted upwards to the clouds overhead; ugly, low-hanging, _angry_. The sun had disappeared behind them, blotted out completely. But where had the neon shop lights gone, the faint glow of cell phone screens? His gaze descended, swept over the crowd in front of him; he saw the crosswalk signs, the storefronts, sparks flying from busted circuitry.

 

The world was not moving as it should have been. Judal was aware of life around him as if it were passing through a filter. If he focused, he could see people moving, register the passage of time, but as he stood there it seemed to cease to exist. Instead there was a muffled hum in the air, and the pounding of his heartbeat.

 

The hairs on the back of his neck raised, and instinctively, on some primal level, he was aware that he was being watched.

 

Finally, in a motion that felt like it took years rather than seconds, Judal turned his head.

 

In the time it took the image in front of his eyes to reach his brain, his mind rejected the whole experience. Like the first time he laid eyes on the courtyard, the image in his mind seemed to glitch. _No_ , it said forcefully. _All you see is an empty street._ Except he knew that wasn’t right, because it had been a busy, crowded street not a minute before.

 

_No_ , his mind pleaded. _It’s empty. Empty empty empty!_

 

_It’s not._ Judal thought softly. _It’s not empty._

 

He blinked, and then it wasn’t empty anymore.

 

People flickered back into existence; dog walkers and confused shopkeeps, students on their way home, mothers pushing strollers, men in suits looking at their watches. All existed through the filter from before, like time itself had ceased to function inside the specific bubble where Judal existed. Only, something else existed there as well. In this little crevice between reality and illusion, he was not alone.

 

They were _incorrect_ , that was his first impression of them. They looked like men, if you wanted to call them anything, and yet they also looked so radically different that the definition of “man” needed to be stretched to its utmost limit to apply to them. Proportions were wrong; torsos too wide, waists too slim, arms far too long. One had an extra set altogether, and far too many eyes. Even at a distance, Judal could see the eyes; it was covered in them.

 

Where there were not eyes, there was skin of pure alabaster, white as marble; its hair swayed in a thick silver wave around it, as if suspended in water. The other had skin of mottled green and flaxen hair that tumbled about its face and shoulders in coils and waves laced with leaves, and flowers, and things that moved.

 

They stood on two legs, but they towered above the crowd, ten feet tall or more. For every inch of them that was wrong, there was another that was _beautiful_. Not the kind of beauty that made one swoon, but the kind that drove mortal men to frothing madness. They were not meant to be seen, not here, not on this side of the veil. They did not belong, and reality rebelled around them for it.

 

Judal was aware of his breathing, his heartbeat, the sweat beading from his palms. Instinct pounded on the inside of his skull, but its voice was muted. He had already made the mistake of meeting their gazes, holding them long enough for their endless, intricate, enigmatic eyes to draw him in. The world spun before him in lights and colors and threads, the pulse of life and the stillness of death.

 

And it was then, in a moment where everything was still, that a single raindrop plummeted from the sky above. It fell, twisting and churning through the atmosphere, shifting and shrinking and morphing until it landed. The droplet was cold when it hit Judal’s cheek, jarring. It made him blink.

 

For just one split second, their gazes were broken. His mind returned to him and instinct howled with desperation unlike any other.

 

He _ran_.

 

Rain cascaded from the heavens once more, only this time, Judal could hear the roars in the thunder. There were voices, shrieks on the wind and murmurs in the rain, they pounded at his eardrums all vying for his attention. He ignored them all, he ran, and he did not look back.

 

The city became a blur of colors around him; streaks of orange and yellow from taillights, blue from streetlamps, red from stop signs. Behind him, glass burst and people gasped as bulb after bulb blew out, snuffing out the light. The further he went, the darker the city became, until everything was blacks and grays and steely blues awash in the rain.

 

Somehow, Judal knew that if he stopped he would be lost. He didn’t know where he was anymore, he was ducking down side streets he had never seen and racing through alleys he didn’t know existed. Concrete streets became a labyrinth, and he was without a ball of yarn to lead him back the way he came. Yet, he was aware of a pull, something hooked behind his ribs that dragged him in certain directions so long as his destination was clear in his mind.

 

Judal did not think of his pursuers, or the world around him, or anything at all. All thoughts were cast from his mind, discarded in great heaps and piles until there was only the image of his home. The clearer the image became, the harsher the tugging in his ribs, urging him on and on and on.

 

Something lashed around his calf.

 

Judal cried out as his legs went out from under him, and the next thing he knew he was on the cold concrete. He was disoriented, the world was still trying to move in blurs of light and falling rain, but he was still. Faintly, he was aware of something slithering around his ankle like a hungry python. Fingers dug into the concrete and he pulled himself, dragging until his body snapped from its shock and allowed him to scramble away.

 

The world seemed hazy, like something was being pulled over his eyes. _Magic_ , his mind told him, because it recognized the shiver in the air and the buzzing in his ears. But magic didn’t work quite the same in the mortal realm as it did in Sidhe, so whatever was trying to be done, it didn’t quite work.

 

Unfortunately, it did enough.

 

Judal screamed as something sharp dug into his forearm. Blearily, he realized that it had been aiming for his neck, that he had raised his arm on instinct alone to defend himself. It was… a snake? No, a vine, no—a branch? The rain made it so difficult to see. Whatever it was it had sunk fangs into him that burned and ached, blotted his returning coherency with pain-- Judal lashed out with a snarl he didn’t know he was capable of and _wrenched_ it off.

 

Blood spilled from his punctured flesh, only to be washed away by the rain. Something was crawling on the ground towards him, morphing, misshapen, taking on a more solid form as it heaved itself across the pavement. Judal didn’t give it time to reach him. He leapt to his feet, and as he did he felt his skin split open in several places, as if cut by invisible blades.

 

The pain was excruciating, like a papercut but a thousand times worse. Judal’s mind was a jumbled mess, the city was unfamiliar around him. Panic clutched at his throat, sucking the breath from his lungs until his head felt fuzzy.

 

Something burst in his chest. Something crimson and vicious that he hadn’t felt since he was very small, cowering in corners and shadows from men and women six times his size with fists that left bruises people pretended not to see. It boiled and stirred and spread through him, tearing the clutter from his mind and clenching around his heart until it stopped racing.

 

Another invisible blade licked his cheek, and blood mixed with rainwater as it slid across his skin. For a second time, Judal fled.

 

He did not need to see the creatures to know that they were following him. Pain ricocheted around his body, but he never slowed. The blur around him did not return, but it didn’t have to, because the clarity was even more visceral than before. Slowly, the streets became familiar, the path more clear.

 

Clawed hands reached for him and caught the end of his shirt, the tail of his braid, the curve of his heel. His blood ran into the sewers with the water. The city’s heartbeat filled his head.

 

A sob wrenched itself from his throat at the sight in front of him. His street, the one he had lived on since he turned seventeen, with its cracked sidewalk and faded paint on old building fronts. The threshold was within reach. All he had to do was run. All he had to do was _move_.

 

They were just behind him. He could smell wildflowers and blood, a pungent mix of life and death that permeated the air and made it hard to breathe. Every step felt like a mile, but he was almost there. He was almost safe.

 

The courtyard gate was closed. Waterlogged flowers drooped on chartreuse vines, spun around the iron bars in a pretty lacework.

 

“ _Sorry_ —“ he gasped, and wrenched the gate open.

 

The vines tore. Flowers fell, crushed and scattered beneath his feet. Something… burned.

 

And then Judal was stumbling through the gateway, into the courtyard. Relief flooded his chest at the same moment energy seemed to drain from his body. His steps faltered and he collapsed, catching himself on aching hands on the hard ground.

 

There was a sound. It cut through the rain. Like water hissing as it hit a hot pan. The hair on the back of Judal’s neck rose and he turned his head.

 

The two fae ducked and stepped through the gate.

 

A bottomless pit opened in his stomach. His heart refused to beat. The threshold, the invisible barrier which had started all of this, pulled at the fae until it had what it wanted, and then it let them go. Leaving them inside.

 

The green one was smiling, delighted, and the other’s countless eyes were staring unblinkingly down at him. Judal felt cold with fear, he knew he needed to move, to get inside, to do something—

 

He couldn’t move.

 

There was a name lodged in the back of his throat. Judal willed himself to say, or not to say, he wasn’t sure which would be worse and as the indecisiveness clouded his mind—

 

A wave of cold blanketed the courtyard. The rain fell on a thin sheet of ice, Judal’s breath fogged in front of his eyes. A familiar shiver passed down his spine.

 

“ _What_ ,” the prince of UnSeelie court snarled through bared teeth. “ _Do you think you are **doing**?!_ ”


	27. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my wonderful readers, I hope you're ready to have the answer to the question so many of you have been asking: Just who, or what, is Judal? It's time for this arc's big reveal, everyone!

Judal sat on the couch, one leg tucked beneath himself and the other stretched across Hakuryuu’s lap. The prince’s eyes were focused on the dark bruise forming on his calf, soft fingertips running over marred skin. The apartment was quiet save for the steady _rap-tap-tap_ of rain on the windowpanes and the occasional creak from somewhere in the building. Not far from them, the pair of pursuant fae sat, staring unblinkingly.

 

The last half hour was something of a blur.

 

He could remember the courtyard most clearly. The white hot fury in Hakuryuu's eyes was difficult to forget, and for a moment Judal had thought it was directed at him. Fear, which had already been plaguing him at the time, had redoubled in ferocity. And then he had realized that Hakuryuu’s gaze was not on him, but rather settled somewhere _above_ him. When he looked, the towering fae had halted, eyes fixed on the prince.

 

“ ** _You_** ,” Hakuryuu had snarled, words dripping acidic from his tongue. “ _How **dare** you--!_ ”

 

It was the first time Judal had ever heard Hakuryuu speak with such a voice. The tone reminded him of when the prince had given him his true name; it held the same breath of winter, the same frigid, overwhelming cold. He wasn't the only one that had felt it, for both fae drew back, almost flinching away from the enraged royal.

 

And then they lowered themselves to one knee, bowing their heads in reverence. Something clammy had clutched at Judal's throat, then. Those two who had chased him who knew how far across the city bowed their heads without question to the prince. Over time, the familiar shiver of Hakuryuu's magic had come to be somewhat comforting, but this time was different.

 

It bordered on frightening.

 

After that, things became jumbled.

 

He could faintly recall Hakuryuu speaking more, his voice harsh and vicious, and the courtyard writhing about him like a living thing. There had been blood, at some point, and he was almost certain that it hadn't been his own. Had Hakuryuu lashed out at the bowing fae? Possibly, but he couldn't be sure. The rain blended with the crackle of magic in the air, and everything became white noise and dull, throbbing pain.

 

They had gotten back upstairs, somehow. He had been in Hakuryuu’s arms, he knew that much, and the two fae had followed dutifully behind them. Judal remembered wanting to ask Hakuryuu to make them go away, but it seemed he had lost his voice somewhere six blocks away and had yet to recover it.

 

Somewhere among the prattle of voices, Judal caught a pair of names.

 

_Belial_ and _Zagan_.

 

It struck him belatedly that unlike their assailants from before, Hakuryuu actually appeared to _know_ these two. Not just know them, but be familiar enough with them that their names rolled off his tongue like a whipcrack.

 

By the time Judal straightened out his thoughts, he was allowing Hakuryuu to peel his hoodie off and pat him down in search of injuries. He mumbled something about his leg, and this was where he found himself.

 

"Does this hurt?" the prince murmured, pressing his fingers to different points along the bruise. Judal shook his head. "Good, it doesn't seem fractured."

 

"We do know how to play with your toys without breaking them, you know." the green-skinned fae whined defensively. He seemed to realize as soon as he finished speaking that he had said the wrong thing.

Hakuryuu whipped his head around to snarl at the fae.

 

"Bite your tongue, Zagan!"

 

Zagan's face twisted with displeasure, and his jaw moved in what Judal thought was a display of petulance. Then, a droplet of purple blood spilled from the corner of his lips, sliding sluggishly down his chin. Judal's stomach lurched. He'd bitten his tongue.

 

Hakuryuu turned away.

 

"Pay them no mind, Judal. They can’t do anything as long as I am here.”

 

The paler of the two, Belial, scoffed.

 

"Unless you have a desire to lose the power of speech," Hakuryuu said sharply. "I suggest you keep your disapproval to yourself."

 

Several of Belial's countless eyes rolled, though his face remained convincingly unmoved.

 

"Forgive me if I am not convinced that you will permanently cripple your vassals for the sake of a plaything."

 

The prince stilled, then abruptly stood up, startling Judal.

 

He rounded on the fae kneeling beside the couch, placing himself between them and his lover. Even on their knees, Belial and Zagan were nearly as tall as their prince. Yet, Hakuryuu managed to appear both larger and far more intimidating than them simply by how he held himself and the tone of his voice.

 

"Judal is neither plaything nor _toy_! I expect far better from the two of you than this mockery and violence-- If it were not for Judal I would be dead, and neither of you would have a prince to serve at all!"

 

"My prince, I doubt--"

 

" _Silence!_ " he all but roared, raising his voice for the first time. "I owe him more than I can think to explain to you two, and it is a debt that I have sworn myself to! Never would I have thought that my own vassals would dare turn against him. You insult me, and the generosity of my host."

 

This statement seemed to sober them, but not soon enough for twin looks of shock and horror to cross their faces at the mention of the oath Hakuryuu had sworn. Belial's express may have been schooled once more into blankness, but the eyes across his body were all staring at Judal like he was something unsightly. Zagan had the courtesy to look guilty, or at least fake it.

 

"We did not know." he said.

 

"You didn't _ask_." Judal muttered, speaking for the first time.

 

All three fae turned to look at him. Zagan's expression betrayed a certain amount of surprise, as if he were just seeing Judal for the first time. Judal averted his eyes. The memory of being locked into the fae's gaze was fresh in his mind, and it was not an experience he sought to repeat.

 

Hakuryuu settled back onto the couch and drew his lover closer. Judal came complacently into the prince's lap and allowed himself to be fussed over. He was beginning to feel lightheaded, though he wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or pain.

 

"We are not obligated to make inquiries of mortals." Belial sniffed, only to have Zagan interrupt him before he could further belittle anyone.

 

"But that mainly has to do with the fact we are so rarely spotted! We had barely set eyes on you when you took note of us. It was quite surprising!"

 

"You're like, the size of a small building."

 

Judal cast his eyes over the fae. He distinctly remembered them reaching up towards the second story of the building nearest to them, but a moment ago Hakuryuu had stood taller than them. They shouldn't fit in his apartment, he realized; the ceilings weren't high enough. But there they sat.

 

"...Or, you were." he amended lamely.

 

It was almost as though the laws of reality did not quite agree with Belial and Zagan.

 

For the last few minutes, a burning ache had begun to travel from Judal’s wrist up towards his shoulder, prickling its way inch by inch through his muscles. Hakuryuu had lifted his arm as carefully as he could, examining the bloody bite mark left by the wooden serpent. Judal had simply added this to the other aches pulsing through his body and done his best to ignore it, having no way to dull the pain.

 

Suddenly, without warning or consent, Hakuryuu slotted his mouth over the bite and _sucked_. Judal yelped, surprised, then made a high, pained noise as the sensation hit his nerves. The suction dragged on already aching flesh, pulled at burst veins and made a fresh wave of pain wash down to his fingertips. He would have struggled, but for as gentle as Hakuryuu's hands were, his grip was firm.

 

Still vaguely lightheaded, Judal had no earthly idea what the _hell_ Hakuryuu thought he was doing. He intended to ask his lover just that when he pulled back, but paused. Under the bright pink mark from Hakuryuu's mouth, the skin around the bite was turning a faint shade of green. Judal stared at it. After a moment of confusion, it dawned on him that he may in fact be poisoned.

 

This explained a lot.

 

Zagan's expression confirmed it. He looked guilty again, and this time the feeling appeared genuine. It lost meaning, though, when noted that he had directed his gaze at the prince rather than the person he had poisoned. It was obvious there was something like a protest poised on his tongue, no doubt a plea for the prince not to sully his mouth with a _mortal's_ blood.

 

Before he had a chance to speak, Hakuryuu spat the mouthful of blood and venom at him.

 

Belial actually flinched. Judal might have as well, if the lightheadedness hadn't been making everything move much more slowly in his mind.

 

"Hakuryuu," he started. "You don't gotta..."

 

His words petered out as the prince's mouth pressed to his skin again.

 

Hakuryuu must have felt his point had been made, because he spat the next two mouthfuls of blood onto the carpet instead of at his vassals. Things were silent again, though Zagan was fidgeting with every bob of the prince's throat, until Belial sighed.

 

"I still cannot fathom why you are quite this cross," he said bluntly. "But at least allow Zagan to tend to the boy."

 

Incredulous looks from both prince and vassal turned on the fae. Belial glanced between them, then shrugged his shoulders, his second set of arms crossing over his ribs.

 

"I would rather not watch this all night." he explained dryly.

 

Privately, Judal agreed with him. Not that he didn't appreciate Hakuryuu taking care of him, or admire how determined he was as he drew venom from his wound, but it wasn't exactly a quick process. Or painless.

 

Anger still trembled just beneath the prince's skin, Judal could see it in the lightning strikes of blue sparks that danced in his irises. There was protectiveness too, evident in his posture, and pride in the tenseness of his jaw. Even if Belial was right, and he was whether they wanted to admit it or not, the anger made Hakuryuu defiant.

 

Judal rested a hand on his knee, and Hakuryuu's shoulders relaxed. His eyes grew soft when he looked at his lover, pride and anger receding to give affection room. They didn't speak, but they didn't really need to either. They had learned to read each other without words, without even gestures. Every flicker of their lashes and twitch of their lips was a sentence, and a single blink could sometimes be a whole conversation.

 

"Zagan," Hakuryuu instructed, eyes still on Judal. "Tend to his wounds. _Gently_."

 

Zagan seemed relieved to have something to do, whether he approved of the task at hand or not. Apprehension only dawned on Judal when the fae was already close enough that he could smell him ( wood bark and fresh grass, with a faint, lemony tint to it, ) but the vassal was surprisingly considerate. His long fingers skimmed over the places Hakuryuu had already examined, double checking his work with careful eyes, before moving to Judal's arm.

 

Extracting the venom was no more pleasant when Zagan did it; he grew a blossom in the palm of his hand, crushed it, then applied the paste to the wound. It burned, then itched, and if he hadn't been in Hakuryuu's lap Judal would have squirmed more. His head began to clear, though, so he chose not to complain.

 

Judal found himself watching Zagan's hands more than his face. These too were disproportionate, his fingers and nails far too long for his palms, and his wrists much too dainty for his hands. Despite that, they were elegant and precise in their actions, and moved with spiderlike grace.

 

What really bewitched Judal was his magic, which reminded him of Hakuryuu's in the same way a panther reminds one of a saber-tooth tiger. Hakuryuu's magic was impressive, beautiful, and sometimes frightening, but Zagan's took it a step further. His magic felt ancient and raw, as though Hakuryuu’s version was several steps refined from whatever his was. He didn't need earth or seeds, life sprung from his skin in brilliant colors with only a thought.

 

In his mind’s eye, Judal could see him touch the ground, and a forest springing to life before one could blink. A single finger rested on a tree from the courtyard and it grew tall as the sky. Fields of flowers blossomed under his feet and where he slept, new life sprung from the earth.

 

The flowers and moss that bloomed in his palms, which became salves and pastes and turnicutes on Judal's skin, were just a small show of his ability. His power was a bottomless well under his skin, pulsing through his veins, Judal could _feel_ it.

 

"Oh my, what's this?"

 

Judal blinked. He didn't remember drifting into the white noise, allowing it to overtake him. When had he lost focus? If he tried to think back to what had been going through his mind, all he could recall was a sense of smallness, as though he was facing something far larger than himself.

 

Something was wrong. The air had grown tense again, and Hakuryuu's arm had tightened around his waist. Judal glanced over his own body, trying to find what was causing the prince's distress.

 

Zagan's examination had apparently progressed down his other arm by now, and at some point he had taken Judal's hand in his own and turned his palm upwards. Whatever he had expected to find, Judal didn't think it was the ugly, crimson burn that was emblazoned on his pale skin.

 

His first thought was that the _shape_ of the burn seemed more peculiar to him than its origin. Judal had burned himself cooking before, he'd traced Hakuryuu's scars more nights than he could remember, but this didn't look like it had been caused by fire. It was a straight stretch only an inch wide on his palm, and then three smaller slivers across his fingers.

 

" _We_ did not cause this." Zagan said, answering the unasked questions on the forefront of their minds.

 

"If not you," Hakuryuu said. "Then...?"

 

Judal curled his fingers, watching as the burns slowly began to line up.

 

"All I did was open the gate." he said.

 

The more he closed his hand, the more the burns began to take shape. Something was drumming at the inside of his skull, a realization locked away in the depths of his subconscious. Judal had known the answer before the question was even asked.

 

Belial's voice cut through the suspense hanging in the air like a well sharpened blade.

 

"The gate is made of iron, my prince."

 

Judal couldn't breathe.

 

Hakuryuu made to tighten his arms around his lover further, but Judal had already managed to extricate himself from his grasp. He was vaguely aware of being spoken to, of the eyes all following him as he crossed the room in long, purposeful strides.

 

The drawer closest to the entrance of the kitchen was rarely opened, because it was where Judal had deposited every item in his possession that held even a speck of iron in it. As such, Hakuryuu had never bothered to look inside, and his eyes widened when Judal wrenched it open and pulled something wrapped in stained cloth from within. His voice pitched up with distress, but his words were lost on his lover.

 

Judal tipped the cloth over, and out tumbled the iron bolt he had pulled from Hakuryuu's side the night he had found him. No one moved, no one spoke, the room just froze.

 

Judal never had figured out why he _kept_ the damn thing-- he was just glad that he had.

 

He could smell it. The blood second, the iron first. It scraped the inside of his mind with agonizing talons and made bile rise in the back of his throat. Judal's stomach turned, his instincts rebelled, and he ignored all of it to set his fingertips against the blade.

 

The skin _burned_.

 

Judal was aware he was shaking, aware that Zagan had reached him before Hakuryuu and pulled him away from the kitchen, away from the iron. His throat hurt. If he had screamed, he didn't remember. The prince and his vassals were talking.

 

"The boy is a half-blood, was that not obvious? Look at him. Of course there is fae blood in his veins."

 

"You think I cannot sense a _halfling_ , Belial?!" Hakuryuu was snarling. "I have lived with him long enough that I think I would know!"

 

"I cannot disagree, my prince." Zagan hummed. One of his large hands rested on Judal's back, steadying him.

 

"Do you two think I'm _blind_?! Or do you just judge lineage on appearances?!"

 

"Well there are his looks, but a mortal would have surely perished from that venom long before I had a chance to cure them."

 

Hakuryuu faltered. He knew it was true.

 

"A half-blood, then." Belial drawled. "Better at least than you wasting your time entertaining a mortal."

 

" _Bite your t--!_ "

 

"Now, now! I think our prince would have noticed if he were in the presence of mixed blood, don't you, Belial? They are an unstable lot, he would have been affected by iron long before _now_."

 

Belial's lip curled, but he seemed unable to disagree.

 

"S _o--o_ ," Zagan sang thoughtfully. "Not a halfling. Perhaps-- oh my! --a _changeling_ , then?"

 

"A ch-- You are spouting even more nonsense than usual!"

 

"Must you be so _mean_ , Belial?!"

 

"No..." Hakuryuu murmured, staring at Judal with wonder in his eyes. "No, it makes sense. There were signs, I should have seen them but-- Changelings are so rare these days, I hadn't been paying attention. Stars..."

 

"I suppose this changes circumstance some, does it not?"

 

"Just _some_ , Zagan?"

 

" _Must_ you speak to me like that you--!"

 

The conversation was dizzying, and Judal hadn't followed a word of it. He just stood there, staring at his burned hand as if at any moment he may blink and the skin would be umarred and everything would be normal.

 

He felt unsteady on his feet, off-balance, as if the entire world had just been tipped on its axis. Conversation carried on around him, the fae chattering and gesturing and arguing, but none of it reached him. The words were lost in a deafening wall of static that seemed to have surrounded him.

 

Judal watched as a single, solitary white spark leapt from his fingertip and melted into the burned flesh, leaving new skin behind.

 

"I need to go." he blurted, causing the fae to fall silent. "I need to-- to clear my head. Or something."

 

"Judal--"

 

Hakuryuu's gentle tone just made everything more disorienting. Just then, Judal wasn't certain he could tell up from down, and the last thing he needed was to be pacified. He shook his head roughly, stepping away when the prince reached out for him.

 

"I'm gonna go lie down."

 

Undeterred, Hakuryuu took another step forward, concern written across his face.

 

"Alone." Judal said. "I need to be alone. For-- For a while, okay?"

 

_No,_ his lover's eyes said. _That's not okay._

 

He could only spare a half-second for guilt, though, before turning on his heel and walking briskly to his bedroom. The longer he stayed still the weaker he felt, and if he remained where he had been any longer he feared he would have collapsed and been unable to right himself. It took all of his willpower to get himself from the living room to the door of his room, then inside.

 

The door shut with a sharp, decisive snap behind him. Judal leaned back against the faded wood and tried to breathe. His legs gave out, and he sank to the ground.

 

The burns on his hand ached.

 

He lifted his hand shakily, not sure what he was expecting to find, and watched as white sparks began to leap from his skin and erase the damage iron had done to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still confused, don't worry. Next chapter will delve more into Judal's race, what this means for him and Hakuryuu, and what it will mean moving forward into the second arc. 
> 
> And if you're not sure where this came from, or if it seems sudden, worry not! I'll be adding a list of all the hints and changes that have been dropped since the beginning with citations to the chapters they came from! 
> 
> Thank you everyone for sticking with me, and if you have a moment, I'd love to hear what you thought of this reveal in the comments~


	28. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I want to thank my lovely reviewer on FFnet, **Claywind** for [this gorgeous fanart](http://sta.sh/0p2ytfahepp) inspired by Serendipity! ( You can reblog it [here!](http://orsa-verba.tumblr.com/post/159844935315/original-work-a-gorgeous-piece-by-one-of-my) ) This came just in time for my birthday, which is tomorrow, so it feels extra special. ;; v ;;
> 
> At the end of this chapter there's a list of all the instances I dropped hints about Judal not being human! Skip there if you want to know those now!

Hakuryuu was left to stare at the bedroom door as it snapped shut, still reaching for where Judal had been. A pregnant silence filled the room for the second time that evening, once again broken only by the sound of the rain. The vassals had the courtesy to remain silent. Regardless of their opinions of the situation, this was not the time for snide quips.

 

The prince’s face remained passive, but his taut posture revealed how strong the urge to march after his lover was. He managed to contain himself with a slow inhale, exhaling the tension from his body in one long gust. Judal had more than earned the right to have his wishes respected and if he said he needed space, Hakuryuu would give it to him.

 

In a show of willpower, Hakuryuu turned on his heel and walked to the couch, depositing himself gracelessly onto the cushions. There was no need for a dignified persona, his vassals had seen him in more compromising positions than splayed on a couch like a petulant child.

 

“Hakuryuu,” Zagan said, using the prince’s name only now that they were alone. “Would you like one of us to…?”

 

“No.” Hakuryuu sighed. He rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “No, give him time. I am sure this is a lot for him all at once.”

 

“He had not even an inkling of what he was?”

 

“Even _I_ did not notice it. So much magic is lost amidst this modern world, it does not surprise me that he overlooked his own. Besides, such occurrences as today didn’t _happen_ to Judal until I showed up.”

 

At least, he didn’t think they had. As far as Judal had ever told him, his life had been a paragon of mortal normalcy right up until Hakuryuu dropped from the sky. Everything after that was attributed chiefly to the prince himself. So, was it really surprising they had overlooked things?

 

Looking back, things began to jump out at Hakuryuu, illuminated by the clarity of retrospect. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that his lover wasn’t, _couldn’t be_ , a mortal. He tallied the signs, and the more the number grew the more foolish he felt for missing it to begin with. And as foolish as he felt, he felt several times guiltier than that.

 

If only he had noticed things sooner. Judal could have been eased into this, coaxed to the realization on his own. The process of coming to terms with his new identity and addressing what this would mean for his ( Hakuryuu dared not think it then, but; _their_ ) future would have taken place over time. Slowly. Carefully. Instead, Judal had everything unceremoniously announced to him out of the blue.

 

And, stars, Hakuryuu didn’t even want to think about what his vassals were doing here. Few people knew he had ever won their loyalty, and fewer of those knew how to make contact with them without him present. Only a handful of people could have sent them, and if they had gone to that length to find him, things in Sidhe must be growing dire.

 

A feeling of frustrating helplessness settled into Hakuryuu’s chest.

 

“The boy will come around, my prince.” Belial said. It was almost uncharacteristic to hear such comforting words from him, enough so that Hakuryuu lifted his hands to peer at him warily.

 

“Not a half hour ago you were belittling him, now you just accept him?”

 

The fae’s lip curled.

 

“I would not go quite that far. I still dislike the boy, and I do not approve of your… union, whatever it may be. But I am your vassal first, and your advisor second. If you say he is yours, then he is mine too, and I will choose to have some measure of faith in him.”

 

Even Zagan looked somewhat startled by this.

 

“You are not usually so forgiving, Belial!” he exclaimed. “What has changed your mind?”

 

“Have you really not noticed? Either of you?”

 

Blank looks from prince and vassal alike. Belial rolled his countless eyes, utterly exasperated with the pair of them.

 

“Your heart beats in time with his, my prince.” he said. “You and he are connected, perhaps you have been since this all began. Coincidence is a mortal construct, there is no such thing, and even I cannot sever ties made by the universe itself.”

 

Zagan looked at his companion thoughtfully, but said nothing, and Hakuryuu did the same. Belial left his explanation there, though there was little else to be said.

 

Silence returned, and Hakuryuu’s eyes drifted up to focus on the ceiling above him. He had been in this exact position when he first woke in the mortal realm, looking up at this same ceiling. It felt almost a lifetime ago.

 

The cracks had gone when he had redecorated the living room, but he could still picture them as if he had seen them just the day before. The memory of waking up in this strange place, its unfamiliar smell and the couch springs digging into his back, were all emblazoned in his mind. Each moment that had led him to this exact place, now, traced back to his first look at that ceiling.

 

No worldly secrets or life altering advice appeared in the white paint above him, and none had been there before. But Hakuryuu still stared, thoughts drifting, until the steady pounding of his own heart filled his ears. He closed his eyes and focused on it, thinking of Judal.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The problem with windowless rooms was that it was very difficult to tell how long you had been inside one if you didn’t have a clock. Judal wasn’t sure how long he sat there, watching white sparks dance over his burns, before he finally snapped out of his stupor.

 

Sitting there in a daze was going to accomplish nothing. The injury that had taken longest for Hakuryuu’s body to heal had been the one made by iron, so it stood to reason that the same was to be said for his. His magic moved much more slowly than Hakuryuu’s too; the burns were going nowhere fast.

 

With that in mind, Judal shook his head and hauled himself up off the floor. As soon as he stood, all of the exhaustion that adrenaline had been staving off seemed to hit him at once. He stumbled, bracing himself against his dresser as his head spun.

 

It had been a very long day. He had been out in the heat and the sun, wandering the city, and then gotten chased by two very large, very frightening fae. And at the end of that chase, instead of safety, there had been terror, confusion, and then a worldview shattering realization he couldn’t have seen coming if he’d been looking for it.

 

Judal was tired. Mentally, emotionally, and physically, _tired_.

 

He shrugged out of his clothes halfheartedly and crawled into bed. It felt no bigger without Hakuryuu in it beside him, but it did feel colder. Judal gathered the comforter around himself and curled into a ball, burying his nose under the blanket in an attempt to make himself as small as possible.

 

Sleep did not evade him for long. No sooner had he closed his eyes than he was drifting off, and soon the waking world left him completely.

 

Judal dreamed.

 

In his dream, there was an endless plain of white that seemed to stretch for miles in all directions, seemingly unending, unchanging. Judal stood up to his calves in it, and though he recognized the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, he did not feel the cold. Or, he did, but it did not feel like _cold_ in the sense that he knew it.

 

The snow glittered, as overhead hung the moon, casting a cool glow down on the world below. There were more stars in the sky than he had ever seen before, so bright they looked as though he could reach up and snatch one from the heavens. He tried, smiling when his hand closed around empty air.

 

Something about this place was comforting. It was empty, but beautiful in its undisturbed nothingness, the horizon a black line far, far away. The more he looked, the more he began to pick out shapes, little divots and hills hidden in the blankness.

 

Just as his eyes were adjusting, the sun began to rise. It emerged over the horizon, casting the darkness from the sky, causing the stars and moon to flee. For a moment, Judal was blinded. The sun was bright and hot, it reflected off the snow and everything shone with pure light all at once. He raised an arm to shield his eyes, for even his eyelids did not protect him.

 

When he opened his eyes again, the white remained, and yet the snow did not. The expanse of ivory had become the product of tens of thousands of flowers, swaying in a gentle wind. They grew so closely together that it was almost impossible to tell they were flowers at all until you stood among them. Petals tickled his legs.

 

Judal laughed, delighted, but as he made to lower his arm he paused. There was a long line cut into his flesh, looping around to the underside of his wrist, and up over his palm. He turned his arm curiously, trying to get a better look at it, and as he did the cut pulled open wider, exposing something underneath.

 

It wasn’t muscle, and it wasn’t bone.

 

He clenched his fist and reached up with his other arm, but this one too had been split. The movement caused the skin to pull, and Judal watched in horror as it began to peel back. Once the first flap of skin had rolled back, more tears began to form, and more began to peel, and all at once his skin was coming away in grotesque chunks.

 

Judal tried to hold it in place, scrabbling helplessly at his arms until he was no longer trying to keep the skin _on_ , but tearing it off. Hunks of flesh fell to the flowers, and a senseless horror gripped him as he realized that his nails had become claws.

 

What lay beneath his skin was ugly and misshapen. Incorrect in ways he couldn’t describe with words. More of his skin came away, from his legs, his torso, his face, and beneath it was just—

 

Judal woke with a start, smothered in darkness. He flailed, struggling until he wrenched himself free of the blankets and gasped for air. Disoriented, he looked around wildly, trying to get his bearings.

 

His room was silent and undisturbed. Nothing was different from when he had fallen asleep.

 

It took several minutes for his body to leave its panic, and finally Judal flopped back against the mattress. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to recount what he had seen in the dream. Whatever had been under his skin escaped him now.

 

The idea of sleeping more and potentially returning to the dream did not seem appealing, so he laid there, staring at the ceiling in the dark.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A knock came at the bedroom door. Judal wasn’t entirely sure how long he had been laying there, but from the telltale creaks of the upstairs neighbor moving around, he gathered that it was morning.

 

“You can come in…” he called as he sat up, stifling a yawn.

 

The door opened and his lover stood in the doorway, two plates balanced on one arm and a pair of mugs held precariously in the other. The smell of breakfast made Judal’s stomach grumble hungrily, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since the previous afternoon. He gestured vaguely for Hakuryuu to come inside.

 

They ended up eating on his bed, sitting at either end and facing one another. Judal mumbled his thanks for the food, but said little else besides that, and Hakuryuu watched him more than he ate. It was the closest thing to awkward that had ever come between them, and it was clear neither liked the feeling.

 

Judal finished his plate in record time, far hungrier than he had realized, and downed most of the tea he had been brought. He relaxed a little now that his stomach was full, and Hakuryuu took the opportunity to speak.

 

“How do you feel?” he asked.

 

“Tired.” Judal replied honestly. “I had a fucked up dream. Kind of thought that yesterday was _part_ of the fucked up dream, but the burn’s still on my hand, so I guess not.”

 

“May I see it?”

 

Rather than respond verbally, Judal simply held out his hand. Hakuryuu examined his palm, observing the little sparks still toiling away at erasing the injury. They were moving a little more quickly than the night before, but it was still nothing compared to how the prince’s body knit itself back together.

 

“This is impressive.” Hakuryuu said. “For magic that has just awoken to react so fervently to an injury; usually it is much more sluggish.”

 

Usually, Hakuryuu’s compliments made Judal glow, but this one made him frown. He didn’t think his magic was being very “fervent”, and frankly if it was so worried about him being hurt it was a good decade or more too late to action.

 

His feelings must have been written on his face, because Hakuryuu smiled softly. It made something in Judal’s chest uncoil, his shoulders relaxing thoughtlessly as he looked at his lover.

 

“How are your other injuries?” the prince prompted gently. Judal glanced himself over, but before he had even begun to scan his body, he realized he was in far less pain than he should have been.

 

He tugged bandages aside curiously and lifted bandaids until he realized that most of his other injuries were just _gone_. The bite on his forearm was still closing, as was a nasty cut on his shoulder, but other than that he looked as though he’d never been hurt at all.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yes.”

 

A flush of embarrassment touched Judal’s cheekbones, but for once Hakuryuu did not chide him for jumping to hasty conclusions.

 

“If you’re still hungry, there’s more on the stove. I do not want you to overextend yourself now that your magic has awoken.”

 

“Are you always hungry after you use magic?”

 

“Only when I do so in excess. But I have had centuries to grow into my power, and my body knows how to regulate itself and the energy it creates. You, however, have been wearing a mortal skin for who only knows how long.”

 

_Mortal skin_.

 

The thing about being human was that it had never been optional. From the moment a child was old enough to comprehend the difference between themselves and an animal, there was an inherent constant to their lives. They were human beings, and that would never change. You could change your name, your appearance, your gender, your sex, where you lived, who you were, but you were always _human_.

 

And it was not a constant that one was conscious of. When they looked in the mirror, they saw a human face looking back at them, and that was just how reality was. It was the one thing people rarely questioned. An intrinsic truth that united all human beings on earth.

 

Having that suddenly taken away changed everything. A very basic fact of life no longer existed, never had to begin with, and this made everything that had come before look very different than it had.

 

It wasn’t as if he was even particularly _attached_ to being a human, he’d never even thought about it! But now Judal was faced with his life through new eyes, reliving his experiences through a different lens. How many strange things that had happened to him had been magic? How much of his life was the result of forces he hadn’t even been aware existed?

 

Why was he here? On earth, in the mortal realm, not in Sidhe where he apparently belonged? How had he worn the skin of a mortal for so long? Why didn’t he ever notice? How--?

 

Hakuryuu’s hands cupped his cheeks. Judal hadn’t even realized he had lowered his head until his lover was tilting it back up to press a kiss against his lips. Warmth spread through him from where their mouths connected, brushing aside his clamoring thoughts like cobwebs from an empty room. He leaned into the kiss, shuffling forward until he was practically in his lover’s lap.

 

Hakuryuu rested their foreheads together when they pulled apart, dropping his hands to hold both of Judal’s.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “We can wait. We don’t have to talk about it now. If you need more time, that is okay.”

 

“No, I want to talk about it now. I just—It’s a _lot_.”

 

“It is.”

 

A moment of silence fell between them, though this time it was not as heavy. Judal breathed, and Hakuryuu waited patiently for him to speak.

 

“So…” he began, swallowing the last of his unease. “What exactly is a half-blood? Or, change-thing, or whatever?”

 

“A halfling is a child born of both a mortal and a fae.” Hakuryuu explained. “Usually, the child is born with an appearance similar to their fae parent, which often makes them unique among mortals. Occasionally there is enough fae blood in them that they are capable of magic, but they do not usually have very good control over it.”

 

“But they’re affected by iron, right? So how do you know I’m not one?”

 

“Like fae, they are _born_ with magic. If you were a halfling, you would have had a much more volatile life, and you never would have been able to pull that iron bolt from inside me.”

 

Judal felt as though the news he wasn’t a half-blood should have meant something to him. Belial hadn’t seemed to hold them in particularly high regard, though he suspected he didn’t hold _anyone_ in particularly high regard besides Hakuryuu. He tried to muster some kind of relief or joy, but it felt forced.

 

Hakuryuu squeezed his hands.

 

“As Zagan said, I believe that _you_ are a changeling.”

 

“I remember him saying that, but I have no clue what the fuck that means.” Judal rubbed a hand through his hair, mussing the already unruly locks. “I mean, I’ve seen the term come up here and there when I was reading about faeries but I didn’t pay much attention. Kind of looked like a bunch of old wives tales and shit.”

 

“There is a reason for that.” Hakuryuu admitted. “Changelings were far more common in the past, before even I was born. It was much easier for fae to coexist with humankind, in that time.”

 

“What changed?”

 

“Mortals did. They began to build cities and machines from iron and chemicals, kept a closer watch on their own kind and hunted anything that was different. It did not stop all fae from producing changelings, but many saw it as too dangerous.”

 

Hakuryuu paused here and drew in a breath, squeezing Judal’s hands a second time. Even though he could see the prince grappling to find the right words, Judal didn’t push him. He got the sense he may not like what he was about to hear.

 

“A changeling,” Hakuryuu began again. “Is a fae child that is left in the mortal realm, most often as an infant. They were often left in the place of mortal children, who the fae would take back to Sidhe for one reason or another. The fae child--”

 

A short, sharp laugh interrupted the prince’s explanation. Concerned eyes flicked over Judal’s face, taking note of his tilted grin and the way he couldn’t make eye contact.

 

“Oh, brilliant, so my parents just didn’t fucking want me. No that’s great.” Judal laughed, gripping Hakuryuu’s hands until his knuckles were white. “Fantastic. All these years I thought I was just unlucky, turns out I’m a reject.”

 

“Judal, that’s not—“

 

“Seriously? Are you about to tell me that’s not what that means? Because you basically just said that my parents swung over here, dropped me off, grabbed some other kid and—“

 

“ _Judal_ , please, listen to me.”

 

Judal shut his mouth, jaw clenched tight. He couldn’t look Hakuryuu in the eye, he didn’t want him to see just how much pain he was in. The thought of his parents was an old wound, one that had festered, healed, and scarred a long time ago. But there it was now, torn right back open.

 

“As I said,” Hakuryuu continued softly. “The practice of leaving changeling children in the mortal realm is an _old_ one, Judal. With modern mortal life as it is, even the most bold fae thinks twice before setting foot here, let alone leaving an _infant_ who cannot fend for themselves.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, the ones who _do_ are usually desperate. Sidhe is not a safe place, Judal, even when it is peaceful. There are dangers there that even I am not aware of, horrors I have yet to comprehend.”

 

The prince took a deep breath.

 

“What I’m trying to say is, if it was your parents who left you in the mortal realm, it is more likely that they did so to _protect you_ rather than to abandon you.”

 

The thought was comforting. For a moment Judal imagined that there were a pair of fae out there somewhere in hiding, running from some unknown terror, who still thought of the child they had left behind. His stomach twisted when he remembered something he hadn’t thought of in years, and he ducked his head.

 

“A hospital.” Judal muttered. “When I was a kid, my foster mom told me they found me outside a hospital.”

 

Hakuryuu smiled softly and lifted his hands, kissing his knuckles.

 

“Would someone who did not care for you really bother to leave you where you would most assuredly be looked after?” he asked.

 

Judal shook his head.

 

All of this just created more questions than answers. Who were his parents? What had they been running from? Why did they feel they needed to go so far as to leave their baby in an entirely different realm to keep him safe? Or had that been their motivation at all? If it wasn’t, then what was? Did he have any family in Sidhe? Siblings?

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if this would stop the torrent of thoughts rushing through his head. There was so much to think about he couldn’t even begin to put any of it into words. It was overwhelming, and if he wasn’t careful he felt he may be consumed by his own questions.

 

“In theory,” Hakuryuu said, bringing him back to the present. “A changeling could remain hidden in the mortal realm forever, unaware of their heritage. Since they arrive so young, they are able to create something of a second skin for themselves that allows them to exist without any of the ailments that affect fae. It suppresses their magic more and more as they grow older, so by the time they reach adulthood, they are mostly indistinguishable from mortals.”

 

“So, if you’re trying to hide someone…”

 

“What better way than to hide everything that makes them a target?”

 

Another volley of questions ricocheted around his head, joining the cacophony. Judal snatched one of the new queries at random in an attempt to quiet his thoughts.

 

“Then I probably wasn’t ever supposed to find out I wasn’t human. But if I have this second skin, then why did iron burn me?”

 

“That is most likely my fault.”

 

Judal offered his lover an incredulous look, to which Hakuryuu smiled ruefully.

 

“ _Magic draws to it more magic._ As one of royal blood, I am among some of the strongest fae in my court. It is my guess that being in my presence began to awaken your dormant self and draw it towards the surface.”

 

His smile became an amused grin, briefly.

 

“Being intimate with me probably sped the process along, hence this sudden transformation.”

 

“Makes sense.”

 

It didn’t, really. But Judal had learned over his time with Hakuryuu that expecting things to make “sense” was the wrong way to go about things. Mortals and fae existed on two different planes not just physically, but mentally as well. The sooner one let go of mortal conventions of thought, the sooner they began to understand what a fae was saying.

 

In the context of all he knew, Hakuryuu’s explanation seemed to fit. When he thought back through his life, the last instance similar to anything that had been happening to him now had been when he was about ten. There was a long gap between then and now when anything that could be construed as magic had disappeared from his life.

 

This _second skin_ changelings grew seemed more like a shell to him. It had set when he was around eleven, and would have probably stayed intact had Hakuryuu not started putting cracks in it. Now, the cracks were spreading, and pretty soon the whole thing would shatter.

 

The thought that one day, possibly one day soon, he would cease to be mortal entirely made Judal’s thoughts finally quiet. One question was left in the forefront of his mind, while the rest settled somewhere in the background to be addressed at another time.

 

“What now?” he asked. “What happens now?”

 

“Now, you have a choice.”

 

He looked up, only to find Hakuryuu looking down instead. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles against the backs of Judal’s hands.

 

“If Belial and Zagan have been sent for me, then things in Sidhe must be taking a turn for the worst. They will expect me to return with them, and in honesty… I think I should.” he paused, as if steeling himself. “I do not know much about changelings, no one really does, but it seems to me that you are still more or less able to live a mortal life, if you wanted.”

 

“Or?”

 

“Or… Or, you could choose to return to Sidhe. If you do, you will lose your second skin and become a fae, as you truly are. The mortal realm will become toxic to you, but you will be a being of Sidhe.”

 

Judal had expected the second option, but it still made his breath catch in his throat.

 

From the beginning, he had known that things with Hakuryuu couldn’t last. He was of another realm, something that should have been untouchable to someone like Judal, but he was here. And this little sanctuary they had built together, it would eventually fall apart.

 

But which if it didn’t have to? If, instead of watching Hakuryuu as he walked away, or waking one morning to find him gone, Judal could leave with him.

 

“If I choose the second,” he said, tightening his hold on his lover’s hands. “Do I get to stay with you?”

 

Hakuryuu’s head shot up, eyes wide and shimmering with a flurry of emotions. He clutched at Judal’s hands.

 

“Yes! Yes, a thousand times yes, you would stay at my side Judal, I swear I would keep you beside me as long as you would be there!”

 

“Then it’s not much of question.”

 

Judal smiled. His heart was hammering, and his eyes burned. He was feeling too many things at once, they were clogging his throat and making him flush. The chaos in his mind returned, but there was one thing that was clear.

 

“I said, didn’t I? The only thing I want out of life is you. So take me back to Sidhe with you, Hakuryuu.”

 

Hakuryuu made a noise caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He dove forward, knocking them both back against the mattress as he kissed his lover over and over again. Laughter and little gasps of “yes” escaped between kisses. Judal thumbed the tears from the prince’s cheeks, his heart fluttering with the knowledge he had made him cry with joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is a list of all the hints and foreshadowing that was given regarding Judal being inhuman:
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. His ability to **read into and comprehend fae wordplay**. There's a lot of instances of this so I won't put them all here. While it's not only fae who can be good at this, it is unusual for a mortal to pick it up so quickly.
> 
> 2\. **His beauty.** Shallow, sure, but mortals don't usually have red eyes now do they? Fae also possess an "unearthly" quality to their appearance that Judal shares.
> 
> 3\. [ **Chp. 2** ] _For just a moment fingertips brushed his chest, perhaps on accident as Judal rose from where he’d been settled. They sent sparks of heat dancing across Hakuryuu’s skin, and though he was sure it was just a trick of his unconscious mind, for a moment it felt like magic._
> 
> 4\. [ **Chp. 4** ] _One of his foster fathers tried to cut his hair and the scissors broke, his foster brother stole the shared Gameboy and it suddenly died in his hands, a cassette Judal hated got scrambled beyond redemption._
> 
> 5\. [ **Chp. 7** ] _Judal stopped walking, trying to process what had just happened in his head. The half-second image of the dilapidated courtyard was unnaturally fuzzy in his mind, and instinct told him to turn his head and look back._
> 
> 6\. [ **Chp. 10** ] _With his eyes shut, there was only the hum of magic all around him. It began to tingle against his skin, fractious at first and then more insistent, like it was trying to find a crack to slip into so it could worm its way inside him. The static began to even out, the noise becoming less incoherent until it was no longer white noise but fervent whispers he couldn’t quite catch._
> 
> 7\. [ **Chp. 11** ] _It should have been very easy to miss the sword. In fact, Judal’s eyes should have glossed over it as if it wasn’t there at all._
> 
> 8\. [ **Chp. 11** ] _A simple no would have been much easier, and much more convincing. Judal spent a moment wondering why he didn’t just go with the white lie._
> 
> 9\. [ **Chp. 14** ] _Yet he was standing there the victor, and it had occurred to Judal that the blood spilled should make him feel something like fear. Only fear, of all things, was nowhere to be found. Where Judal went looking for it he found the unfamiliar face of pride instead, curled catlike in his chest._
> 
> 10\. [ **Chp. 16** ] _Sidhe wasn’t his concern. So why did it feel like it was?_
> 
> 11\. [ **Chp. 20** ] _He examined the bottle as he walked, looking first for some evidence of mold or mildew, and then glancing over the list of contents warily. Apple concentrate, water, and a handful of other common ingredients. There was nothing there to explain why one swig of the stuff made him want to empty his stomach._
> 
> 12\. [ **Chp. 20** ] _There were a lot of those, these days. Flowers blossoming under his fingertips, silver jewelry that seemed to follow him around the store while window shopping, only to end up in his pocket, freak storms that downed the city’s power for almost six full hours._
> 
> 13\. [ **Chp. 20** ] _For some reason, the map on his phone had been wrong multiple times that day. He had noticed his phone glitch here and there over the past few weeks, but hadn’t thought much of it until that day._
> 
> 14\. [ **Chp. 20** ] _Hakuryuu loved fresh milk, and Judal had been craving it recently too, so he doubled back to buy a jug of it, never mind how heavy it was going to be._
> 
> 15\. [ **Chp. 20** ] _The train was underground, which made an odd sense of claustrophobia hover in the back of his mind, but the bus… For some reason, getting into either vehicle didn’t seem appealing_
> 
> 16\. [ **Chp. 20** ] _It’s not. Judal thought softly. It’s not empty._
> 
> 17\. [ **Chp. 20** ] _Something… burned._
> 
>  
> 
> If you're curious how any of these relate to Judal being inhuman, please drop me a message and I'll be happy to explain!


	29. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize, first, that this chapter is a day late. I moved ( again ) a few days ago and things have been very hectic for a bit; I didn't have a chance to finish up this chapter until very late last night. Rather than rush myself, I wanted to give this chapter the best I could, so here it is a day late. I'm going to work very hard to not have this happen again.
> 
> With that said...
> 
> This is the end of the first arc! Yes, finally, it all comes to a close, for now. The second arc is going to begin with a pair of flashbacks that I hope will enrich the story further and make everyone excited for things to progress.
> 
> However, before we get to those, **we will be going on a week long break**. I need to catch up on writing, and work on another project I'll hopefully be able to tell everyone about soon! Serendipity will return **Monday, May 15th**!
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me everyone, now, to the chapter!

Morning fell over the city with the fog, drifting through the streets with an eerie laziness. The rain had abated, if only for the moment, though clouds still hung low and heavy in the sky above. It was a gray day, illuminated from behind the clouds with a pale light.

 

Judal had been sitting in the courtyard since before the dawn, watching the city through the tapestry of plants. He had been drawn from the warmth of his bed and Hakuryuu’s arms by a fit of restlessness, and crept barefoot from the apartment. The building had seemed to still be asleep as he went down the stairs, as was the street outside.

 

The courtyard smelled intoxicatingly of fresh flowers and wet earth. It was an almost otherworldly smell, like something dragged from the pages of a fantasy novel. Hours had gone by since Judal had settled underneath the mulberry tree, simply breathing as the city slowly woke. His fingers and tongue were stained purple from the berries that fell from the boughs overhead into his waiting palm.

 

Under the juice, the skin of his palm was smooth and unblemished, as if it had never been burned at all. Now, Judal could smell the iron around the courtyard; the benches, the gate, even the vehicles parked outside. It made his nose twitch, and if he got too close his skin began to prickle. His feeling of wanderlust remained, but it was overpowered by a new reluctance to leave the safety of the courtyard greenery.

 

But, he supposed that just came with being a fae.

 

His dream had returned to weigh on his mind when he woke that morning, and Judal had spent a good hour contemplating it as dawn broke. Hakuryuu had mentioned that changelings like him developed a second skin that allowed them to blend in with humankind; with that in mind, had his dream been literal? Or metaphorical? Of the fae who had come seeking the prince’s head, a good number had been inhuman in appearance. What if a monster slept under his skin?

 

Well, Judal had agonized over that thought for a while, wondering if there was something hideous that claimed to be his _real_ self, but ultimately decided it didn’t matter. Fae had magic, and magic could do just about anything. If he ended up with a detestable appearance, he’d just find a way to change it.

 

Or, even if his appearance remained desirable, he could change it anyway! The possibilities became endless when he stopped thinking of things in a linear manner.

 

Judal lifted his hand and, obligingly, the mulberry tree shivered and rained berries down on him. He popped a few in his mouth at once, sucking on them thoughtfully. The bustle of the city was becoming audible, and the first few cars had begun to peel away from the street outside.

 

He considered what to do about the letter of notice on his desk reminding him to register for classes. It wasn’t like he was going to be attending, so should he just blow it off? Or should he call and tell them-- Well. Tell them what? Sorry, I can’t come back to school, turns out I’m a fae and I don’t belong on this plane of existence?

 

“Bet they haven’t heard that one before.” Judal chuckled to himself.

 

There had been a lot of thoughts like that over the last few hours. What was he going to do about his apartment? Should he pay any of his bills? How was he going to get anything, since leaving the apartment seemed less and less favorable?

 

Judal had to laugh because, ultimately, _none of it mattered_.

 

These mundane tasks and worries were no longer of any relevance. Whether he did one thing or another, the outcome wasn’t going to affect him either way. No, the choice between his “normal” life and the chance at something extraordinary had been taken from his hands. He was, and always would be, a changeling, and even if he wanted mundanity back, he could never have it.

 

He stood up, tossing the last few berries into his mouth. He stretched his arms over his head with a contented groan and arched back until he heard a few satisfying pops. With one last look at the sky, he wandered to the door on the side of the building and traipsed up the stairs to his apartment.

 

Outside, the hall was unassuming and quiet. Inside, the scene was comically surreal.

 

Most of his furniture appeared to be floating up near the ceiling, which would have been odd enough, but then he noticed that it was in fact being carried by skeletal creatures which chittered softly. Stranger still, Belial appeared to be chattering back at them, four hands directing the swarm this way and that with the furniture. A snake made of bone was undulating around his neck and torso, apparently too lazy to help in the moving efforts.

 

Hakuryuu was leaning out of the doorway to the kitchen, hair drawn up in a haphazard bun and still wearing the clothes he’d gone to sleep in. There was a bowl tucked into the crook of his arm and his hand was busy kneading some kind of dough. His attention, however, was on Zagan, who he was snapping at rapidly in some language Judal didn’t know. It sounded nice, though.

 

Zagan, meanwhile, was fussing over something that was growing out of Judal’s wood paneled floor and totally ignoring his prince. He was speaking to the plants instead, seemingly deep in conversation with the wooden tendrils waving about in his face.

 

“You can just break the TV.” Judal said in Belial’s general direction. “I can’t exactly use it anymore.”

 

Belial frowned.

 

“What is a—“

 

“ _Judal_ ,” Hakuryuu interrupted, sounding relieved. “Will you _please_ tell them we do not need some kind of banquet table?”

 

“Nonsense! How do you expect to eat at that tiny thing, it barely counts as a shelf!”

 

“It’s called a _coffee table_ it’s supposed to be small—“

 

“That is the most ridiculous—“

 

“A banquet table sounds cool.” Judal interjected. “And that thing—Yeah that one, that’s the TV.”

 

Hakuryuu huffed and turned on his heel, while Zagan clapped his hands and returned to making his desired table. Belial was examining the television with mild curiosity before he apparently deemed it uninteresting and put it in a corner.

 

Judal’s mouth quirked into a faint smile as he headed towards the kitchen to greet his lover, stepping around animate skeletons and the occasional plant. Before he got too far, a wooden vine wound around his wrist and pulled him gently over to Zagan. The fae leaned over and whispered conspiratorially in his ear;

 

“The prince has been in a _mood_ all morning. Do try to cheer him up won’t you? He is absolutely _no_ fun like this.”

 

The changeling cocked a brow, but nodded anyway.

 

“I’ll do my best.”

 

Zagan peered at him a moment, then nodded, satisfied.

 

A pointed ear flicked, betraying how the prince pretended not to notice when Judal stepped into the kitchen. The counters had disappeared under a mess of bowls, platters and half-used ingredients, most of which looked good enough to eat on their own. Hakuryuu was whisking the contents of a new bowl, though maybe more violently than was necessary.

 

Sidling up behind the irate prince, Judal risked pressing a kiss against the nape of his neck. When Hakuryuu didn’t complain, he kissed him a second time, just below his jaw.

 

“Good morning.” he greeted.

 

Hakuryuu sniffed, pretending not to notice as Judal pulled him against his chest.

 

“It’s been nothing but a headache. I’d forgotten what unreasonable mongrels those two were.”

 

Judal sniggered, but still said; “That’s not very nice.”

 

“Neither is leaving me alone in bed.”

 

Judal laughed again. Hakuryuu sounded like a child, sulking after being told his parents had gone to a movie without him. It was adorable as much as it was silly, and if the pink tinge to his cheekbones was any indication, the prince knew it.

 

“So you’re r _e—e_ ally in a bad mood,” the changeling chuckled. “Just cause you woke up without me?”  

 

Before his lover could respond, Judal kissed the side of his neck, allowing his teeth to press faintly to pale skin. Hakuryuu’s breathing stuttered for a moment, though the rest of him remained perfectly composed.

 

“That… was a contributing factor.” he amended.

 

A second kiss landed on the prince’s pulse and he tilted his head, offering more of his skin to Judal’s mouth. He took the offer, speaking against his lover’s throat;

 

“What else was there?”

 

“It will be addressed over breakfast I’m sure.”

 

“That’s not an answer.”

 

Hakuryuu turned his head to offer his lover a soft smile. Judal, ever the prime example of self-control, kissed him before he could speak. The mixing bowl was set aside and soon the fae’s mismatched arms were settling around Judal’s shoulders, while his tongue pressed into his mouth.

 

“Let me finish cooking.” Hakuryuu sighed when they parted. “Then you’ll get your answer.”

 

“I could do that,” His hands slid down to toy with the waistband of the prince’s trousers. “Or I could suck you off to make up for leaving you alone this morning.”

 

Hakuryuu’s brows shot up in surprise, though he didn’t seem opposed to the idea.

 

“Even with them here?”

 

Judal rolled his eyes.

 

“Somethin’ tells me that wouldn’t be the _most_ scandalous thing they’ve ever seen you do.”

 

“Who says I ever do anything scandalous?”

 

“Yeah, okay, sure, you were a total goody-two-shoes and then just started a fucking rebellion.”

 

Hakuryuu opened his mouth to argue, then shut it.

 

“Alright, that’s fair.”

 

He smiled as Judal laughed, waiting for his giggles to subside before continuing.

 

“And not that I do not adore your mouth, but even I have limits to how much I am capable of multitasking. Go help Zagan with the table, breakfast won’t be long.”

 

Judal only thought to ask _how_ he was meant to help with the table when he was already out of the kitchen.

 

True to his word, Hakuryuu had finished breakfast by the time Zagan was satisfied with the table he had grown from the floorboards. Judal had mostly observed him, occasionally asking questions that sprung to mind as he did. Despite his attitude the day before, Zagan seemed all too delighted with Judal’s presence now, and cheerfully answered whatever he was asked.

 

Belial was less chatty. When he answered at all, it was in short, brusque sentences, often directed more over Judal’s shoulder than at him directly. He got the sense that the poly-eyed fae still didn’t like him very much.

 

Hakuryuu served them a feast of pancakes, crepes, fruits, jams, at least two kinds of porridge, finely sliced meat and cheese, and a bowl of flowers Judal knew to be edible. There was milk and fresh juice to drink, and more plates and cups than he could actually remember owning. When he pointed out the lack of chairs, Belial was quick to make them some from his skeletal familiars, claiming to have had enough of Zagan’s fussing for one morning.

 

There seemed to be a unanimous decision once they were all seated that whatever conversation was to be had could wait until they had put something in their stomachs. Belial used one hand to toss several of the flowers into his mouth, while the others busied themselves filling a pair of plates with food. These were laid in front of Hakuryuu and Judal, while Zagan was left to fend for himself.

 

Judal couldn’t help observing his dining companions while he ate. Hakuryuu was dignified as ever, sitting with his back straight and eating at a measured pace without appearing overly stiff. Belial ate in polite mouthfuls, only ever using two hands at a time to attend to his meal while the other set rested neatly in his lap. Zagan plucked and picked at things like a particularly indecisive bird, but he seemed to have eaten the most out of all four of them.

 

“Who knew mortal fare could be so delightful?” Zagan chimed, the first to break the silence.

 

Belial, who had taken a particular liking to the pancakes, grunted something close to agreement. Judal subtly nudged the second jar of honey towards him, since he had finished off the first by drowning his pancakes in it. The vassal narrowed his eyes at him, but snatched the sweet anyway.

 

“It was Judal who had the courtesy to show me most of these foods.” Hakuryuu said.

 

“Really? Well, you must be quite the cook then, it is quite difficult to impress the prince.”

 

“I dunno about “impressing” him, I think he was just really hungry and I offered the first available food source.”

 

“That isn’t true!”

 

Judal shot an amused look at his prince.

 

“You ate like three plates of pancakes in thirty minutes flat.”

 

“Just because I was hungry does not mean the food wasn’t _good_.” Hakuryuu said, affronted.

 

“Yours is just better.”

 

“I have been cooking for centuries—“

 

“And you’ve used your skills for evil!” Judal lamented, feigning distress. “My tastebuds are forever tarnished! Never again can I eat anything not touched by your glorious hands.”

 

“Oh I’m already aware you think highly of my hands, though I do not think it has much to do with my cooking…”

 

Belial cleared his throat sharply, interrupting the lover’s playful banter. Hakuryuu cast him a disapproving scowl, to which he only rolled several of his eyes.

 

“While I am glad to see my prince in such good spirits,” he said. “There are pressing matters to discuss, and I believe we have left them long enough.”

 

“Can we not have a meal in peace?”

 

“No,” Hakuryuu said, dismissing Zagan’s sigh. “You are correct, Belial. Let us speak. Begin with how it was you came to find me.”

 

The atmosphere around the table shifted to something more serious. This, Judal concluded, was probably the conversation Hakuryuu had not been looking forward to having. Like him, the prince had probably been staving off thoughts of Sidhe and what awaited his return as long as he could, but it seemed they could do so no longer.

 

“It was prince Alibaba who sent us after you.” Belial began. “He called to us from the edge of Seelie territory; we almost did not come. However, you made sure we learned the feeling of his magic, so if ever we were to seek you out we would not mistake him for an enemy.”

 

“A brave boy.” Zagan noted idly, picking apart a crepe he had made not a moment before. “He stood his ground and met our eye despite clearly being unnerved by us. Why he did not summon his own vassal I may never know.”

 

“Respect, Zagan. Something you know little about.”

  
“I most certainly--!”

 

“Once he had earned our attention,” Belial went on. “He led us to the place where you tore your way through the veil. From there, our objective and direction were obvious. As your vassals, it is our job to protect your life above all others, so it was natural to seek you out.”

 

“For such a small place, the mortal world truly is a pain to search. Does it always rain so much?”

 

“That was your doing.” Hakuryuu said. “Reality as it is in the mortal realm was not made with the intention of ancient fae like you existing within it. The moment the storm began, I knew you were near.”

 

He glanced at Judal, as if sensing his surprise, and had the decency to look apologetic.

 

“I did not want to frighten you.” he explained. “Had I been wrong, we may have been facing a foe that even I could not best.”

 

“You should’ve said.”

 

“I realize that now.”

 

It wasn’t an apology, but Judal knew he wasn’t going to get one either. When Hakuryuu believed himself to be in the right he stood staunchly by his decisions, so it was best to just let it go.

 

Hakuryuu pecked his cheek before turning his attention back to his vassals.

 

“And? What news does Alibaba send you with?”

 

“That he is very concerned for your wellbeing and would like you returned to him as soon as possible.” Zagan popped a berry into his mouth. “Ah, and king Sinbad of Seelie has been accused of your kidnapping.”

 

Hakuryuu groaned.

 

“Apparently, the Queen has given him a moon to produce you and, failing that, she will take it as a personal attack on UnSeelie court.”

 

“Damnit.” Hakuryuu hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just the opening she’s been waiting for. I should have expected this.”

 

“There is little use lamenting it now, my prince.” Belial said sharply. “Whether the king is able to produce you or not makes very little difference. If he does not, she has her reason to launch an attack on Seelie. If he does, she can claim that you have turned against your people. Your friendship with his prince is not precisely a well-kept secret.”

 

“She has been waiting for this chance a long while, prince. If it were not this, it would be something else. Inevitably, this was to be the outcome.”

 

“Perhaps, but I still feel unwell for being the cause.”

 

Judal wondered if he should reach over and touch his lover. Maybe put a comforting hand over his or tuck his hair behind his ear or something. Before he had the chance, however, Hakuryuu had lifted his head again.

 

“What of the rebellion?”

 

“Regrouped and on the move. Alibaba gave us little in the way of specifics, but I gather that the only thing the UnSeelie attack accomplished was to redouble their convictions.”

 

“Good. And UnSeelie?”

 

Zagan twirled a finger, producing a spindly vine from the air that blossomed with blue bulbs.

 

“We have kept our ears open, my prince, as you have told us. There is unrest, no one is sure who or what to believe with this most recent accusation. Some of your followers are wavering, but by the same token others seem to be newly inclined in your favor.”

 

“Among the rumors, one claims that the Queen has some intention of naming your cousin as the new Prince.” Belial noted over a forkful of pancake. “And his siblings after him.”

 

Hakuryuu scoffed.

 

“Unlikely. The same claim was made after she took their father for a lover. All she’s doing is taunting him, reminding him of his position and what he could attain if he bowed to her. Kouen knows her well enough to know she’ll never act.”

 

“His siblings have been whispering more or less the same.” Zagan agreed. “And for what it may be worth, king Sinbad does seem ready to stand his ground if UnSeelie comes calling.”

 

“Of course he does.” Hakuryuu rolled his eyes. “The man’s never met a challenge he didn’t feel like facing. It’s pure, dumb luck he’s even alive at this point.”

 

His tone was almost amused, but his eyes were steely. Even without words, it was clear that he was worried; whether it was for this king they spoke of, or simply for the state of affairs overall, Judal couldn’t tell.

 

“There is one other thing I think may be of note.” Zagan said.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Ithnan.”

 

This time, Judal reached over and put his hand over Hakuryuu’s. It wasn’t meant to comfort, really, it was more an act of concern since he’d just bent his fork in half. Hakuryuu’s grip on the utensil loosened and he grabbed his lover’s hand instead, winding wooden fingers with flesh.

 

“What about that bastard?” he bristled.

 

“His behavior has been strange, of late.” Belial said. “Haphazard. The Queen has been keeping him especially busy, but his tasks are all far too menial for his status. I might even say she is toying with him.”

 

For a moment, Hakuryuu seemed to consider this, brow drawn with thought. Then, his eyes widened and something caught between awe, horror, and malicious glee crossed his visage.

 

“He’s lied to her.” he said. “Or omitted a truth. The killers he sent after me must have been an attempt to ensure she never learn I survived the initial attack.”

 

Both vassals looked equally surprised by this, though something dark and bemused was glittering in Zagan’s eyes.

 

“One does not lie to the Queens.” they both said at once.

 

“No.” their prince agreed. “Not if they expect to live very long.”

 

A thick cloud of malice had settled over the table, almost suffocating in its intensity. It occurred to Judal, as he stared at his lover’s wooden hand, that everyone present very much despised the same person. He’d never even met him, but he knew that if he ever crossed paths with Ithnan, he was going to waste no time in taking his life.

 

( What a vicious thought, almost unlike him, he realized. _That must be the fae blood talking._ he thought with some satisfaction. )

 

Hakuryuu sighed, and the air cleared.

 

“Well, no use dwelling on all that now.”

 

“Yes, plenty of time for it later! Belial, pass the honey.”

 

“There is no more.”

 

“ _Eh?!_ You—You finished it _again_! Why can’t you ever share?!”

 

“You never ask until it is gone.”

 

“You should have the consideration to save some for other people!”

 

“No.”

 

“If I have to order you two not to bicker at the table _again_ —“

 

“Sorry.” Judal interrupted, voice raised to be heard above the chatter. “Like, I didn’t follow all of that, obviously, but—I mean, it all sounded kind of _urgent_. Should we really be…?”

 

He gestured vaguely to the half-eaten breakfast spread.

 

The three fae glanced down at the table, then at each other, then at Judal. Not for the first time, he felt a great deal like he was missing something that was meant to be obvious. It had been frustrating before, but now that he knew he was a good two decades behind on his own culture, it was downright aggravating.

 

Hakuryuu squeezed his hand, which distracted him from his annoyance.

 

“You don’t need to worry, Judal. Spending a few moments on a meal won’t change anything.”

 

“Hakuryuu, I appreciate you always telling me I don’t need to worry but at some point that’s just gonna make me worry _more_.”

 

“Noted, but in this case I’m being quite literal. The time spent here,” he indicated their meal. “Won’t make a difference.”

 

Belial seemed to have picked up on what the prince was trying to express.

 

“The mortal realm and Sidhe do not exist in the same time.” he said, drawing Judal’s attention. “A day here may be a hundred in Sidhe, and by the same token, a day in Sidhe may equate fifty years here. It is difficult to explain, but if one knows what they are doing, it is possible to leave Sidhe, live an entire lifetime here, and return in a matter of days.”

 

Judal blinked, unsure if he was more startled by Belial’s polite answer or the information he’d been given.

 

“So… Exactly how long has it been since Hakuryuu disappeared? In Sidhe?” he asked.

 

Zagan dabbed at his mouth with a napkin Judal _definitely_ hadn’t owned that morning.

 

“Well, let me think.” he hummed. “He has not returned to UnSeelie since the beginning of the year so… Oh, a moon, maybe?”

 

He must have looked confused, because Hakuryuu smiled faintly.

 

“A month.” he supplied.

 

Judal was floored.

 

A month. For them, it had only been a single month since all of this had started. He tried to make sense of it, attempting to condense the life he had lived with Hakuryuu into a single month, and finding himself more and more overwhelmed the longer he thought about it. Had Hakuryuu been living in an entirely different set of days and hours than him this whole time?

 

“How long has it been here?” Zagan asked.

 

Hakuryuu tightened his grip on Judal’s hand.

 

“Far longer.” he said.

 

Breakfast continued in silence after that.

 

Judal found himself somewhat lacking in appetite and mostly sat, lost in thought, as the other fae continued eating. Every now and then Hakuryuu would stop to coax him into finishing something else on his plate, but seemed to sense he needed a little space.

 

The plates and bowls which had been overflowing with food were almost empty now, scattered morsels resting on their corners. Belial had just risen, beginning to stack and lift the various dishes, when Judal stood abruptly.

 

He slammed his hands on the table, startling everyone present and sending one of Belial’s familiars scurrying away in fright.

 

“Okay!” he said, as if he was just picking up a conversation that had been left off. “Let’s get back to Sidhe!”

 

The fae stared at him in shock.

 

“What—Now?” Belial asked.

 

“No, yesterday. Yes now!”

 

“Judal,” Hakuryuu said gently. “I told you there isn’t any rush—“

 

Judal waved a hand dismissively.

 

“There’s no reason to stick around here _either_!” he said, sounding exasperated. “What are we gonna do, sit in the apartment all day twiddling our thumbs?”

 

Hakuryuu seemed at a loss, as if it had just dawned on him that he wasn’t actually sure what the answer to that should be. His brow knitted as he grappled for words, but Judal continued before he could find them.

 

“Listen, your sociopath of a mother is planning to start her war with Seelie in one month. That means we’ve got one month to either find a way to stop her, stall her, or at least make the preparations to do either or both!” Judal crossed his arms, determined glare directed at the fae in front of him. “We may not be wasting a lot of time here but, personally, I think every second’s gotta count right now. Right?”

 

Hakuryuu looked almost stunned by the time Judal had finished speaking. Zagan’s mouth was open in a startled ‘o’ and Belial had a subtle hint of _respect_ in his eyes. It took them a moment to collect themselves, but when they did they were smiling.

 

Zagan chortled.

 

“The boy’s right. Every moment makes a difference.”

 

Belial hummed, setting the dishes back down and stretching two of his arms over his head.

 

“We will begin making a gateway.” he said. “It will not take long.”

 

“Make it in the courtyard.” Hakuryuu said absently, eyes still fixed on his lover.

 

As his vassals took their leave, he stepped closer to Judal. He leaned his hip against the table, lifting a hand to brush dark hair back from his lover’s cheek.

 

“When did you become so invested?”

 

“You care.” Judal said, shrugging his shoulders. “So I care. Besides, it’s going to be my home now too. Can’t have it getting destroyed.”

 

The prince smiled widely, matching Judal’s wicked grin. He cupped a hand around the base of his skull and pulled him in for a heated kiss, digging sharp incisors into his bottom lip.

 

“Let’s get ready, then.” he murmured against his lover’s mouth. “We’re going home.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The leaving of the mortal realm proceeded with far less fanfare than Judal had expected.

 

He and Hakuryuu both showered, though they did so separately, using sponges of moss to scrub themselves clean. The idea was to wash away as much of the mortal realm as they could, and once the water was turned off Judal scrubbed himself down once more just to be sure. It left his skin pink and sensitive, but much cleaner than before.

 

When he had asked what he should wear, Hakuryuu had told him to dress for comfort, and not to bother bringing an extra set of clothes. So, while he allowed his hair to dry, he set about rummaging through his drawers and closet in search of something to wear.

 

Anything with metal was immediately tossed aside, which included a majority of his pants and shorts, as well as most of his jackets. Articles with patterns and designs on them were also done away with, as was anything with a logo. He dismissed things made for weather that was either too hot or too cold, narrowing his choices as quickly as he could.

 

After some deliberation, he settled on a pair of snug fitting pants that didn’t need a belt to rest on his hips. A long sleeved shirt with a low cut neck was chosen for his top, and a well-worn pair of slip on shoes for his feet. His hair, now almost dry, was tied back in a tight braid he tied off with a loose hairtie.

 

The outfit was simple, all black and relatively unimpressive. Judal picked through his jewelry for a bit, but only ended up putting on the silver bracelet that had found its way into his pocket the week prior. It glittered happily in the light, like it was pleased to be going with him.

 

Hakuryuu was waiting for him when he left his room. Judal had been expecting him to don his armor, but instead he had knotted it up into a neat pack he’d swung over his shoulder. He had changed, though, from the clothes he had bought in the mortal realm to garments reminiscent of the bloodied ones he had arrived in. A high collared shirt, fitted around the wrists, dark pants tucked into knee high boots, and his hair done up in a bun at the back of his head.

 

He smiled when he saw Judal, and together they left the apartment. On impulse, Judal locked the door behind him, and when he realized what he had done he paused.

 

For a moment he just stood there, hand against the door, thinking of all the time he had spent beyond this doorway. The joy he’d felt the day he had moved in, the strain of keeping up with bills and school at once, and how it had slowly, surely, come to be home. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t even impressive.

 

But it had been his.

 

“…I’m going.” he murmured to the door. “Thanks for everything.”

 

Judal left the keys in the lock and descended the stairs.

 

The courtyard was neither particularly quiet, nor particularly serene when they stepped outside. The midday hubbub could be heard from beyond the gate, and a sharp breeze had begun tugging at the leaves. A thought to check on the younger saplings later crossed Judal’s mind, only for him to remember that he wouldn’t be able to.

 

He cast his eyes around, looking at the sanctum Hakuryuu had created for them, the little oasis in the middle of the city. What would become of it after they were gone? They were plants, they’d live on so long as someone had the notion to tend to them once in a while. What if no one did?

 

Then they would return to the earth, as they had come, and eventually something new would grow in their place. When he thought about it like that, it was comforting.

 

Belial and Zagan once again towered over them, each standing well above the tallest tree the courtyard had to offer. They had chosen a spot by the back wall, not quite hidden from the windows of the buildings on either side, but disguised from the street. Being seen didn’t really matter at this point, Judal supposed.

 

“Ready?” Zagan asked cheerfully, clapping his hands together.

 

Hakuryuu almost said yes, but Judal stopped him with a hand on his arm.

 

“Wait. I just thought of something.”

 

The prince looked at him, puzzled.

 

“My “second skin” is still on. So as far as Sidhe is concerned, I’m mostly mortal, right?”

 

“Oh, dear, that is true.” Zagan said. “That may pose a problem. Sidhe can be very dangerous for mortals.”

 

“It isn’t a problem.” Hakuryuu assured. “Is it, Judal?”

 

Judal stared into the prince’s eyes for a moment, lost on what he was trying to convey. It dawned on him suddenly and he beamed.

 

Hakuryuu set his armor down and offered both of his hands. Judal took them, sucking in a deep breath and shutting his eyes for a moment. Magic sparkled inside him, dancing its way up from his belly through his chest until it alighted on his tongue.

 

He opened his eyes.

 

“ _Hakuryuu Ren,_ ” he began, tasting the cold and the power of the name as it slid from his tongue. “ _Prince of UnSeelie Court, Son of the Great King Hakutoku, heir to his throne, I call upon thee._ ”

 

Hakuryuu’s eyes danced with blue flame, hot and cold at once, power and subservience combined. He smiled, and in that moment it was more beautiful than anything in the entirety of the mortal realm.

 

“ _I am here, Judal, to whom I owe so much._ ” he replied. “ _What will you ask of me?_ ”

                                                          

“ _I ask for you to return to Sidhe with me by your side; to guide and teach me as we travel, so I will not stray; to ensure I am not tricked, bewitched, or led from you, while I learn to live as one of your own._ ”

 

The magic between them leapt and sparked, raising the hair on the back of Judal’s neck. He could feel it racing through his blood, burning on his tongue, twisting around and through their hands. The bond between them had always been there, since Hakuryuu had sworn his oath, but he had never felt it so strongly before.

 

It was the most reassuring thing he could have asked for.

 

“ _It will be my honor to do all you have asked of me._ ” Hakuryuu said, affection leaking into his tone. “ _Consider your first request granted._ ”

 

The bond snapped taut, and Judal felt something escape with his breath as he exhaled. The air cleared, calm once more, and Belial scoffed.

 

“Wishes? Really, my prince?”

 

Zagan smiled.

 

“I think it is quite romantic.”

 

“Shut up.” Hakuryuu huffed. “Just open the damn gate.”

 

The opening of the gate itself was as simplistic as everything else had been. Belial merely hooked one clawed finger in the air and drew it swiftly down, as if tearing something in two.

 

The world seemed to split open, like a torn movie screen, everything just where it had been and yet just a little bit askew. Judal peered into the void, but couldn’t see anything on the other side. An intense, giddy feeling flooded him and he gripped Hakuryuu’s hand tightly.

 

Zagan went first, disappearing into the schism as if he had never been there at all. The prince went next, waiting until the last moment to release his lover’s hand, and then suddenly it was Judal’s turn. He swallowed, staring into the opening the led to nothing and everything all at once.

 

Bracing himself, Judal stepped forward, and disappeared from the mortal realm. Belial stood in the courtyard alone, counting the seconds until he deemed their disappearances unnoticed, before stepping through himself.

 

For a few moments, the tear in reality remained. It shimmered, there and not all at once depending on what angle you caught it from, as if just waiting to tempt one more soul through. Then, the veil began to knit itself closed again, pulling together with invisible thread until the opening was gone.

 

Within a few moments, the courtyard was empty. The wind rustled the leaves, and somewhere a car horn drawled on.

 

Overhead, the skies opened, and it began to rain.


	30. Prelude pt.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We return! This chapter takes place before Serendipity even began, as will next week's chapter. I hope everyone enjoys this insight into the events that led up to Judal and Hakuryuu's first meeting! I can't promise how many of these characters will reappear, but I wanted to introduce them anyway.

Once upon a time, Matal Magomett had been the Seelie Queen’s most trusted advisor. He was a severe looking man who had probably been young and handsome at one time, though no one seemed to remember when that was. There was a slight slope to his back, but even so he stood almost seven feet tall and walked with the slow steps of one unhurried by time. Age wore itself well on his face, and though he had lost any beauty he may have once possessed, there was now a weathered wiseness to him.

 

When Matal Magomett spoke, he commanded the attention of everyone around him. The tongues he spoke in were often indecipherable, and many had driven themselves to madness trying to solve his puzzles. Few could even attempt to match wits with him, for he was a uniquely intelligent creature with a mind as vast as Sidhe itself. Only three fae had ever questioned the Queen of Seelie court openly and lived; Matal Magomett was one.

 

The Queen had always known that Matal possessed an insatiable lust for knowledge, and in the beginning this had been a trait she valued in him. Each of his discoveries, every successful experiment and frustrating failure, had been of value. But as time wore on, his desire had only grown, and the Queen accepted that one day it would cease to be sustained by what the court could offer.

 

Matal Magomett’s pursuit of the unknown had cost him more than a normal man could bear. Secrets Sidhe hid-- the truths of magic and the universe, how time spun itself and why even the fae succumbed to death --were not things meant to be known. Yet he sought to know them, regardless of consequence or concern, until at last he had gone too far.

 

It became obvious when his yearning had grown to possess him. He secluded himself within his studies and was rarely seen, and almost any who went to inquire for his company were turned away, or never seen again. The deeds done behind those oaken doors were not spoken of in Seelie court. Few knew the extent of them, for it was only in the aftermath they were discovered, and others knew better than to be curious.

 

There were whispers though, of twisted magic and mangled corpses. That Matal had delved into darkness and pulled from it things so black and gnarled their very existence poisoned the world around them. He had experimented with it, toyed with forces no living creature was meant to comprehend, and many an unwitting fae had paid the price. Some said his preferred subjects were children, and many lowered their voices until they could scarcely be heard to say that his final act had been to take the Seelie Prince.

 

Of course, he had been recovered, but no one was quite sure if he was the same.

 

Matal Magomett had fled into the untamed woodlands and never been seen again. Oh, the Queen had sent her hunting parties after him, but a leshonki was a fae of the forests, and he was impossible to find. Yet for many moons her most trusted knight prowled the wilds, lions at his heels. Some said he hunted for his prey with such ferocity that he drew the eye of the Erlking and was offered a place among his Hunt.

 

In the end, Matal Magomett went unfound and unpunished for his trespasses against the Queen.

 

  

* * *

 

 

Time passed, and it became known throughout the vastness of Sidhe that Matal Magomett was a traitor, and to associate with him in any way was to proclaim oneself an enemy of Seelie court. His name became taboo, even outside the borders of his former home. If he was found, and in turn delivered to the Seelie Queen, the one responsible for his capture would surely be greatly rewarded. 

  

 

* * *

 

 

Somewhere between Seelie and UnSeelie lay a place claimed by neither and both of the courts. This was a meeting place, a territory where the two courts mingled and convened when necessary or desired, so that neither had the obligation to invite the other too far past their borders. Even in the most peaceful of times, it was rare to find a fae from one court that had traveled to the heart of another.

 

The journey from the border of Seelie to its center was the second half of the UnSeelie Prince’s trial. He had the advantage of familiarity; before tensions had grown taut between the courts, Alibaba had taught him much about his homeland, and he had done the same. Hakuryuu took the shortest path to the Queen, led only by his instincts and the owl which had delivered her summons.

 

Though the owl only offered hints of which path to take, the lands of Seelie were far kinder to him than he had expected. It was a blessing he chose not to ponder, plunging ahead without stopping to rest either himself or his stead. He and the great silver wolf he rode stood out starkly against the lushness of the forest, but not a soul attempted to cross their paths.

 

When the owl spread its wings and flew from his shoulder, Hakuryuu knew he was growing close. The warmth of life pulsed all around him, filling his blood with the song of Seelie court. He followed it, allowing the magic to fill him and mingle with the feeling of UnSeelie that lived in his veins.

 

The prince brushed aside a curtain of hanging ivy, and then emerged into the heart of Seelie.

 

The court assembled itself in a vast grove, encircled by trees that towered high above them, the ground beneath their feet carpeted in soft grass and sweet smelling moss. Fae lounged on thick roots protruding from the earth, or around slabs of stone encircled by brightly colored mushrooms. Their earthen tables were laden fruits, berries and meat, no doubt taken from the vines and traps that hung from the boughs of trees.

 

A thin brook wove lazily in and out of the trees, pooling into a deep pond where courtiers dipped their feet. Occasionally, a fae would emerge from the pool and another would slip into it, disappearing beneath the water to whatever lay below. Several dined on freshly caught fish, still wriggling in their hands, and plucked the thin bones from their sharp teeth.

 

Opposite where Hakuryuu had emerged the trees bent themselves inwards, bowing towards a great oak at their center. They extended their branches so they wove into a tangle of walkways and perches on either side of the vast tree. In many places the boughs had been grown thick with moss, furnished with silk, lanterns that glowed with the soft light of fireflies, and thin stone tables engraved with hypnotic patterns of ivy.

 

At the base of the great oak, among its thick roots, sat the throne and the Queen of Seelie court upon it.

 

The gathered fae parted easily, allowing the UnSeelie Prince to approach their Queen. Silence blanketed the grove, tens of eyes affixed on the foreigner in their midst, each and every one prepared to tear him apart at the faintest whisper. Hakuryuu halted in the middle of the clearing and dismounted.

 

He clasped his hands together and dropped down onto one knee, bowing his head low. A murmur of surprise circled the grove.

 

“I am honored to be in your presence, o Scheherazade, Queen of Seelie court.” he said. “I thank you for your invitation.”

 

Scheherazade surveyed him thoughtfully from her throne.

 

“Raise your head, Prince of UnSeelie.” she instructed. “It has been a long while since I have set eyes upon you.”

 

Hakuryuu remained kneeling, but lifted his head up to the Queen. He met her piercing gaze, her eyes a thousand times older than her body betrayed, and had to fight not to flinch. To look into the eyes of a Queen was no easy feat, but he forced himself to bear it until at last she seemed satisfied.

 

Scheherazade smiled softly and shut her eyes.

 

“You have grown much since last I saw you, Hakuryuu. I forget sometimes how swiftly a babe grows to be a man. You have the look of your father about you, and your eldest brother, may they both rest with the stars.”

 

Hakuryuu bowed his head again, obscuring the effect her words had on him.

 

“Thank you, Queen Scheherazade.”

 

She inclined her head politely, then gestured for him to rise. Once he had stood, Scheherazade cast her gaze about the grove, addressing her court at large.

 

“It is not often that we welcome a member of UnSeelie court into our midst. Even our lands at whole have been void of your people for many seasons now. This is an unusual occurrence.”

 

Her eyes fell back to Hakuryuu.

 

“Yet this,” she said, resting her hand delicately on something beside her throne. “Makes it an unusual circumstance.”

 

All eyes went to the object beneath the Queen’s hand. Hakuryuu recognized it immediately, after all, he had been the one who made it.

 

It was a box, crafted from rich, dark wood taken from an ash tree. The sides fit together seamlessly, its lid indicated only by a set of hinges and ornate clasp made of ivory. Each face had been engraved by hand with an intricate patternwork of leaves and flowers bordered with thorns. The engravings had then been embossed with silver and gold, also done by Hakuryuu’s hand.

 

The chest opened noiselessly, and inside it smelled of wine and earth. A velvet cushion lay at the bottom, stuffed with nettles and goose down. The cushion was crimson in color, edged with golden thread the prince had once again stitched into place himself.

 

Matal Magomett’s head fit perfectly inside.

 

“At the risk of being presumptuous, o Queen,” Hakuryuu said. “I take it my gift was well received?”

 

“I believe you trespassed far past _presumptuous_ some time ago.” the Queen replied. “How is it that you found him, when my most favored knight could not?”

 

Hakuryuu felt eyes boring daggers into his neck and he glanced around until he found the one responsible. The knight in question, a beast of a man with long scarlet hair, sat in one of the enclaves made by tangled boughs. He was not alone; on his knee lounged the Seelie Prince, watching the proceedings with an amicable smile.

 

The knight continued glaring until a chestnut skinned fae nudged him with his elbow, offering him the pipe he had been sucking on a moment before.

 

“There are things older than Leshy and his kin in the wildlands.” Hakuryuu said. “A vassal of mine happens to be one.”

 

Hakuryuu paused, then went on when the Queen’s eyes continued to search his own.

 

“He is not a particularly helpful sort. I had to ply him with wine and compliments before he even considered going to the effort, but once I had his attention it was not difficult to find him. The place he had hidden himself was well disguised, but not much of a journey to reach.”

 

He looked back to the knight, whose stare had softened somewhat.

 

“He was closer to the border of UnSeelie than your own, perhaps that is why you did not find him first.”

 

The knight took this for the gesture of respect it was and inclined his head.

 

“And this vassal of yours,” the Queen asked, her fingers tapping slowly on the lid of the chest. “It is he who was the captor?”

 

“Not at all. I asked him only to find what was hidden. The hunt and kill were my own pleasure, not his.”

 

Scheherazade was quiet once more, her youthful face betraying nothing. It was difficult to tell what she was thinking, her intent disguised behind her composure. Hakuryuu could only stand and wait for her to speak again, all too aware that at a single word his life would end.

 

From the corner of his eye, Hakuryuu caught sight of a familiar flash of gold. He didn’t dare look away from the Queen to search the crowd for the face he knew, but he didn’t have to. Alibaba had slid his way through the crowd so he stood just within Hakuryuu’s line of sight, silent, but there nonetheless.

 

If things came to violence, the golden prince would not come to his aid, he was sure. Still, it felt good to have a friend in the crowd.

 

The mounting tension was broken by the Seelie Prince’s musical laughter. He leapt lightly from the knee of his knight, skipping over slender boughs until he could jump down to the forest floor.

 

“Really mother, you must stop looking so stern!” he chastised playfully as he stood. “This is grand! A foe of ours dead, and a new friend in our midst. But all we do is stand here and stare at him like he were some sort of spectacle!”

 

Up close, the Seelie Prince was even lovelier than rumors said. His hair fell to the floor in flaxen waves, and his skin held a warm olive hue that made his clear blue eyes stand out all the more. His smile made the heart flutter, and the simple wrap of emerald silk he wore shifted invitingly over his figure.

 

He crossed to Hakuryuu’s side and clasped his hands.

 

“Regardless of what else is said, I want you to know that I appreciate what you have done. I will sleep far easier at night knowing that man’s life has ended.”

 

“Then I am glad for that at least.” Hakuryuu tilted his head. “I do not think we have been introduced.”

 

“No, during my introduction to your court you were…” his eyes drifted to the scar etched into the left side of Hakuryuu’s face. “Indisposed.”

 

“I see.”

 

He bowed slightly, careful not to dislodge their hands.

 

“Prince Hakuryuu Ren of the UnSeelie court. It is an honor to finally meet you.”

 

The Seelie Prince laughed delightedly and squeezed his hands.

 

“Prince Titus Alexius of the Seelie court! I am very glad to finally make your acquaintance, Hakuryuu.”

 

Hakuryuu blinked, and realized that for a moment he had lost focus. Titus’ voice carried an unusual amount of allure to it when he said his name, enough to completely disarm the composed prince. He released his hands, suddenly unnerved by the _pull_ he felt to the other prince.

 

Titus stared at him a moment, surprised, then seemed to realize something and smiled apologetically. He skipped a few steps back.

 

“Titus…” the Queen sighed, though her voice lapsed into fondness. “Please. Control yourself, my son.”

 

Mother and son exchanged an unreadable look, and then the Queen’s attention returned to her guest.

 

“It takes a great deal of impudence to do what you have done, prince Hakuryuu, and my first thought is to punish you for it.”

 

Hakuryuu opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it quickly shut when the Queen’s eyes flashed. A chill raced down his spine and he fought the urge to shiver with fear. He had dreaded this outcome.

 

“Matal Magomett was a great many things. At one time, I would have trusted him to defend the life of any one of the people under my care. Someone who never knew him, who is not even of Seelie court, cannot begin to fathom the extent of his betrayal. To take the right to avenge ourselves from us is a crime most grave.”

 

Here, she paused, allowing her words to sink in. Hakuryuu did not look away from her, even as he felt her magic slipping into him, brushing through his thoughts and against the nervous tick of his heart. If he could have spoken, he would have, but the truth was that he had known this even as he made the choice to take Matal Magomett’s life. It was a gamble he had had to take.

 

After a moment, Scheherazade’s expression softened.

 

“However, I know that is not how it was intended. You have never chosen to make an enemy of my court, and there are those here who would even vouch for you as they would a brother.” her voice grew gentle. “And if there is anyone who might understand the pain of being betrayed by one you once cherished, it would be you, Hakuryuu Ren.”

 

Hakuryuu’s heart swelled all at once with affection for the Queen. He could not tell where the feeling came from, was not even sure if it was the proper emotion to experience in this moment, but he felt it nonetheless.

 

“With all that having been said, I accept your gift, o prince of UnSeelie, and thank you for it most graciously.” for a brief moment, a vicious smile curled the Queen’s cherubic mouth. “I will treasure it for some time to come.”

 

Relief flooded Hakuryuu, almost dizzying in its intensity. He bowed deeply, silently thanking every star he could think of for letting him live through this.

 

“Thank you, Queen Scheherazade. It was my honor.”

 

The atmosphere within the grove lightened considerably. While a majority of the courtiers remained engaged by the interactions between their Queen and her guest, many chose to return their attention to whatever they had been doing before Hakuryuu arrived.

 

Titus scampered back up into the lacework of tree branches to where his previous companions sat waiting for him. He deposited himself in his knight’s lap, laughing at something that couldn’t be heard from the ground, and tossed his legs over the knees of the fae with the pipe. The three were immediately absorbed in their own conversation, and did not return their attention to the Queen.

 

Scheherazade beckoned Hakuryuu closer with one delicate hand, and he obliged her without question, mounting the steps to her throne. A stone stool was produced for him to sit on, and he was offered nuts and berries which he politely declined. His stead curled around his seat, glad to finally rest. A lovely nymph came over to offer the wolf a bowl of clear water, which he drank gratefully.

 

Hakuryuu nodded to her, and her pale blue cheeks flushed lilac before she scurried off.

 

“Now then,” Scheherazade hummed, curling her knees up onto her throne so she could turn to face the prince. “We come to the purpose of this whole endeavor. Few have gone to such lengths to earn an audience with me, so what is it that has driven you, prince Hakuryuu?”

 

The longer he gazed into the Queen’s eyes, the more difficult it became to speak. Hakuryuu struggled to twist his tongue from the knots it had wound itself into, reaching deep inside himself for the well of self-assurance and hatred he knew could overpower his loyalty to his court. This was, in a sense, a betrayal of his Queen.

 

If he had his way, it wouldn’t be the last.

 

“My mother plans to destroy you and your court, Queen Scheherazade.” he began. “I know this is hardly a revelation, and on its own not particularly threatening. You, surely, have surmised this much from her behavior and how she has stirred dissent between our courts. It is why I knew I had to come myself rather than simply send word through my friend.”

 

Scheherazade’s eyes flicked to a spot above his shoulder, and Hakuryuu knew without looking that Alibaba was there.

 

“I cannot remember a time since your mother took the throne that she did not seek to widen the gap between Seelie and UnSeelie.” the Queen said. “How can you be sure that now her threats hold true?”

 

“I would sooner cut out my tongue than pay my mother any form of compliment, but I will say; I have never known her to be the kind to bluff. Have you?”

 

The faerie Queen’s eyes narrowed, her lips drawing into a thin line. That was answer enough.

 

“She has been making promises to her kings,” Hakuryuu went on. “Promises she could not keep if Seelie still held any sort of power. I thought for a time that she meant only to wage war on your court, but as of late I am not so sure. Her preparations, however subtle, have all seemed to be with the impression that there will be little left for us to fight.”

 

“This would hardly be the first time Sidhe was torn apart by war, nor do I imagine it would be the last.”

 

“I agree, and, meaning no offense Queen Scheherazade, if it were only war I would not have bothered to forewarn you.”

 

She dipped her head, implying that no offense had been taken and that he should continue.

 

“I hear talk of decimation, Queen Scheherazade. Of _destruction_ , the likes of which Sidhe has not seen since the oldest days, when there were no courts and no Queens and only wilderness. My mother has discovered something, a forgotten power, and though I do not know what it is I know that it is only a matter of time before it is within her grasp.” Hakuryuu paused, then added quietly; “She _is_ coming for you, and your court, and this time I am hesitant to think you will be able to stop her.”

 

The prince fell silent, and Scheherazade regarded him with an unreadable expression. She knew as well as he did that what had been said here today would brand him as a traitor to his people. They would demand his head on a spit, which his mother would no doubt deliver unquestioningly to them. Hakuryuu had risked the wrath of both Queens in coming here, and if that did not speak to the truth of his words, then nothing would.

 

Scheherazade sighed.

 

“I am too old for wars and conspiracies.” she said. “I have served Seelie long enough that I have had my fill of battlefields.”

 

She looked up, and Hakuryuu followed her gaze to the spot where her son and his companions resided. They had been joined by a wiry young girl with hair the color of autumn leaves, who wore a dress of red silk in the same style as the Queen’s own. Sunlight seemed to seek her out, and her joyous laughter echoed around the grove like bird songs.

 

“In truth,” the Queen said, still gazing up at her. “I may have passed this mantle on long ago, if not for whom my successor would be forced to contend with.”

 

Hakuryuu started, turning his eyes back to the young girl in Titus’ lap. It occurred to him, in a moment of awe, that he was looking at the next Queen of Seelie court. She was nothing impressive now, but one day she would be sitting on the throne Scheherazade now occupied, Titus, the King, at her side.

 

“I cannot imagine that you would come solely to warn me of a war I have known to be on the horizon for centuries now.” Scheherazade said. “You have come to ask something of me. What is it?”

 

Tearing his gaze from the future Queen, Hakuryuu straightened his back. Now came the moment of brutal honesty that may cost him his life. His throat tightened painfully as he tried to speak the words, but he overcame the feeling as soon as it appeared. Loyalty to his court was not loyalty to his Queen, for if it had been he would have abandoned his home long ago.

 

“I intend to kill my mother.” he said unflinchingly. “I ask for your support in this endeavor, Queen Scheherazade, as it will serve us both.”

 

The expression on Scheherazade’s face was one of shock, pupils blown wide and jaw tensed. If anyone was close enough to have heard his declaration, they pretended not to have.

 

“I should kill you for even suggesting such a thing.”

 

“You should. But I do not think you will.”

 

Scheherazade’s expression melted into a scowl, but this was wiped from her visage as soon as she blinked. Her features schooled themselves back into passive composure, though her eyes betrayed her inner thoughts.

 

She wanted his head for threatening the life of a Queen. Yet, stronger than that was a venomous hatred that bubbled in her irises, turning them a darker shade of sky. The Queen hovered between her instincts and her emotions, wanting to partake in his vengeance as well as stop it.

 

Hakuryuu could only wait and hold his breath.

 

“…I cannot be of help to you, Hakuryuu.” Scheherazade spoke carefully. “It is not in my nature to antagonize UnSeelie court.”

 

Her ageless eyes fixed pointedly on his, staring deep into him.

 

“I apologize that I can be of no further aid.”

 

A slow, sly smile curled Hakuryuu’s mouth.

 

“Not at all, Queen Scheherazade. You have offered me more than enough.”

 

An elegant hand extended to him, and he dropped to bended knee to press a reverent kiss to the Seelie Queen’s slender fingers. Then he rose, descending the wooden steps from her throne with his wolf at his side. He finally allowed his eyes to roam about the grove, seeking the familiar flash of gold that belonged to Alibaba.

 

When he found him, he smiled, striding swiftly across the grass to reach his side. Alibaba left the stone table he had been settled at, playing some game with a set of dice and a pile of gold pieces, and jogged to meet him. Once he was close enough, Hakuryuu threw his arm around his friend’s shoulders.

 

“Things went well?” Alibaba asked, resting his arm lazily around Hakuryuu’s waist.

 

“More favorably than I expected.”

 

The golden prince steered them towards the treeline, away from the court and back into the woodlands.

 

“You have her support, then?”

 

“Not quite. But she offered something in her place.”

 

Alibaba cocked an eyebrow at him and Hakuryuu could no longer contain his wolfish grin. He leaned in closer to his friend as they made their way into the trees and said;

 

“I think it may be high time you introduced me to that king of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Leshy** is a forest guardian, or wild-man, in the same vein as the British Green Man. He hails from Russia and neighboring Slavic countries, and is known by several other names such as Lesovik and Leshak. As a woodland protector, he punishes those who mistreat the forests, especially if a mortal enters without leaving him proper offerings. He is a shapeshifter, casts no shadow, and hibernates in the winter. He had a wife, Lesovikha, and together they gave birth to the **Leshonki**.
> 
>  
> 
> For those confused by some of the unnamed, but focused on, characters; the knight is Muu Alexius, the pipe-smoking fae was Sphintus, and the next Queen of Seelie court is Marga!


	31. Prelude pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to link to this awesome art I received in last week's chapter so here's that, and another one the same artist drew for me!! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Fae Prince Hakuryuu](http://mid-k-night.tumblr.com/post/160140705857/toolateforjuhakufeels-theres-a-fabulous-writer)  
> [These dorks being cute](http://mid-k-night.tumblr.com/post/160917360322/serendipity-and-the-things-in-between-by)

If there was a fae in Sidhe who didn’t know Sinbad’s name, Hakuryuu had yet to meet them. Every region had its own local legends, some unique to a place or court, others more widely known, but it was rare for stories to cross more than a few borders before dying out. Among the tales that were told, passed from one eager listener to the next, few were as prolific as Sinbad’s.

 

It was said he was the offspring of the wind and sea, born when the earth and heavens crashed against one another in a passionate fury. No one could say where he had come from, or when he had appeared. He had simply materialized one day before the Seelie Queen with little more than his wits and the clothes on his back, and proposed a bet.

 

Seven trials of the Queen’s design, he wagered. Four for a kingdom, land on which to build it, and her banner under which to rule it. Two for her favor, a chance to win her trust and loyalty, and prove himself worthy of being one of her closest advisers. And one for power and the knowledge needed to wield it. If he failed in even one of her trials, she was free to punish him however she saw fit, and if he won, then all the spoils were his to claim.

 

Not many fae would willingly wager such dangerous odds against a Queen and this intrigued Scheherazade. She accepted his bet.

 

As Sinbad bested each of his seven tests, word of his deeds spread through Seelie, then spilled out over its borders across all of Sidhe. His adventures became a spectacle, watched with bated breath, each victory celebrated across the lands. When his bet had been won, Sinbad rose to power on gilded stairs, already a legend.  

 

Though Hakuryuu had never met him, both the king and his palace seemed familiar after decades listening to Alibaba speak of them. As he followed his friend across the grounds and through the sunlit halls it felt a great deal like he was revisiting somewhere he had been in his childhood and not returned to in some time. Many of the servants greeted them, then did a double take when they noticed him, like he was someone they knew but hadn’t immediately recognized.

 

It was a very comfortable place. Whether it was the warm stone beneath their feet or the gentle current of magic that went dancing through the air, Hakuryuu felt at ease. For all his power and ambition, Sinbad had built a sanctuary meant for all and any willing to call him their king. His kingdom was a flourishing melting pot of fae from all walks of life, welcoming to anyone who passed through the gates without ill intentions.

 

Alibaba led them under a low archway and into a small courtyard paved with stone, in the middle of which sat a modest fountain. Standing beside the fountain was the king himself, conversing with a slender fae with the eyes of a snake. Hakuryuu knew him from the stories; Ja’far, Sinbad’s left hand, who he had met during the second of his seven trials.

 

Sinbad noticed the two princes and his face split into a wide smile. As fae went, he was arguably one of the most beautiful, and his smile was a little dazzling up close.

 

“Welcome, and welcome home!” he greeted, throwing his arms wide as he strode towards them. “Alibaba my boy, come here, let your king have a look at you. You’ve been gone so long!”

 

Alibaba laughed and darted over to his king, allowing him to muss his hair and tug on his earrings. The affection between them was palpable, and Hakuryuu was reminded suddenly of a much younger version of his friend. No matter how much one matured, the love between a parent and child seemed to stay the same.

 

While Sinbad fussed over his prince, Ja’far approached Hakuryuu.

 

“It is an honor to have you here, Prince of UnSeelie.” he said, bowing politely. “Alibaba speaks of you with such frequency, I feel a great deal as though we have already met.”

 

Hakuryuu inclined his head.

 

“I could say I feel the same.”

 

Ja’far stood straight and cast a critical eye over the prince.

 

There was nothing inherently malicious in his gaze, or his posture, or even the magic surrounding him. Yet Hakuryuu could feel himself being picked apart into strengths and weaknesses; the faults in his armor noted, the way he favored his right side catalogued, how he breathed memorized. The feeling was one he knew, for it was the feeling of being beneath the eyes of a predator.

 

As the story went; after his first trial, one of Scheherazade’s kings had deemed Sinbad a threat. Wishing to ensure Sinbad’s demise, the king proposed him as prey for the Wilde Hunt.

 

The Hunt was feared across Sidhe for a great many reasons, but among them the Erlking was first and his hunters second. The Erlking cared nothing for borders or treaties, courts or kingdoms. If one was prey to the Wilde Hunt, then there was nowhere in all the realms that they could run to find safe harbor.

 

The Erlking had only been mildly interested in Sinbad, which was likely the only reason he was still alive, and had sent a hunting party after him. The leader of this party was a particularly vicious fae, even among his fellow hunters. He was memorable not just for the carcasses he left in his wake, but for the fact that he was but a mere child.

 

This child hunter had been Ja’far, who had gone on to not just leave the Hunt unscathed, but to leave with an open invitation to return. Both things, unheard of.

 

Hakuryuu was wise enough to know he ought to fear the man in front of him, and smart enough not to show it.

 

“Alibaba is one of very few I call _friend_ with sincerity.” he said. “If you will pardon my boldness in saying so, he is… He is the closest thing remaining I have to a brother.”

 

Ja’far looked startled before his expression softened. The subtle tension between them dissipated, as though it had never been there to begin with.

 

“I know he thinks of you the same, prince Hakuryuu.”

 

The two fae shared a brief smile before they were distracted by Sinbad’s booming laughter. Hakuryuu had to stamp down a sudden giddiness in his chest; everything Sinbad did was tinged with magic, and its effect was a little unnerving. He wondered if Alibaba was immune to this, or simply accustomed to it.

 

“You’re scaring guests as usual, Ja’far!”

 

“I am doing no such thing! And for star’s sake— _please_ speak formally in front of newcomers, my king!”

 

“Please, there’s no need for formality, is there Hakuryuu?” The prince was caught off guard, suddenly being addressed. He fumbled for words, but the king continued; “After all, it’s as you say; both you and Alibaba regard each other as brothers.”

 

He spread his arms again, pulling magic from the air and twining it around his next words.

 

“My home is yours, prince Hakuryuu. You’re welcome here as a friend, not as a guest.”

 

Hakuryuu was not accustomed to being welcomed into dwellings without having to first prove himself as trustworthy. His court held a reputation for being particularly cunning and deceitful where possibly, and this preceded him most places he went.

 

Sinbad’s openness gave him pause. This man had not risen to power by blindly trusting everyone he met, quite the opposite. He had a long history of manipulating circumstance to his advantage using wiliness and trickery, some of which were as fabled as his heroics. Just because Hakuryuu could not see a trap in his words didn’t mean there wasn’t one.

 

Hakuryuu chose his reply hastily, but with care, neither accepting nor denying the invitation.

 

“That is kind of you to say, king Sinbad.”

 

It may have been his imagination, but he swore the king’s smile pulled a fraction wider, as if he had said something that pleased him.

 

“Sinbad,” Alibaba piped up. “I brought Hakuryuu here for more than just a social visit; there’s a matter of some importance he’d like to discuss with you.”

 

“Is that so?” Sinbad hummed.

 

Hakuryuu drew himself up straighter. This would be the second time he stated his case and he was feeling far less nervous than the first. Sinbad may be impressive, but he was nothing compared to the Seelie Queen.

 

The king seemed to be considering things, looking thoughtfully at the pair of princes. After a moment, he waved his hand dismissively.

 

“Ah well, there will be time for discussion later. For now, I suggest you both rest.”

 

Immediately, Hakuryuu was off balance. He blinked, astonished by the carefree dismissal, and stammered;

 

“W-with all respect, king Sinbad, this is—“

 

“Nothing that can’t wait a single night,” the king interrupted. “Or you wouldn’t have just spent several traveling here.”

 

Hakuryuu wasn’t sure how to respond to that, because it was true. He wanted to protest, explain that he had not come all this way to luxuriate in Sinbad’s palace, no matter how enticing that offer may be. Every moment his mother remained on the throne of UnSeelie court, Sidhe edged closer to some unfathomable destruction.

 

“You’ve come a long way, and came from a longer way before that.” Sinbad continued. “It will do you more good than harm to relax for an evening. Eat, drink, enjoy yourself! You’ll be better for it in the morning.”

 

Some distant part of Hakuryuu agreed. He had been running on the last dregs of adrenaline ever since he left Scheherazade’s presence. Even standing here was sapping him of the last of his energy. If he pushed himself, he was going to end up in worse shape than if he just took the time to rest.

 

Pride made him want to argue anyway, and in another circumstance he might have. But the last thing he needed was to risk losing Sinbad’s favor. If he wanted even the remotest chance of besting his mother, he was going to need more support than the divided UnSeelie could offer.

 

Hakuryuu breathed in through his nose, then exhaled slowly.

 

“As you like it, king Sinbad.” he said resignedly. The king chuckled.

 

“There now, was that so hard? Come, don’t be so dour! Even you must know my kingdom is known for our festivities!”

 

“Hakuryuu’s never been much for parties.” Alibaba sniggered, bursting into laughter when his friend shot him a reproachful look.

 

Sinbad feigned horror.

 

“ _Not one for parties_? Why a fae who does not indulge in revelry is a sorry soul indeed! We must endeavor to fix this at once—“

 

“That really is not necessary—“

 

“Prince Hakuryuu,” Ja’far interjected. “May I show you to your rooms?”

 

Hakuryuu must have looked relieved as he accepted the former hunter’s invitation for he was quick to whisk him away. They made a hasty retreat through one of the many archways leading off of the courtyard, the sound of raucous laughter chasing them down the hall.

 

Ja’far kept a brisk, but manageable pace, and once they had left the prince and king behind them he offered Hakuryuu an apologetic smile.

 

“I must apologize for them.” he said. “They are a handful apart, but together they become entirely unreasonable.”

 

Hakuryuu shook his head.

 

“I adore Alibaba, but I wonder at times how one could manage to live with him at length. Now, I imagine how one can stand to live with _two_ of him.”

 

“At least Alibaba has his boyish charm; Sinbad is just a nuisance.”

 

They remained mostly on outdoor walkways and halls with gaping windows, displaying panoramic views of the sprawling palace. Ja’far pointed to structures and lawns, explaining their names and purposes as they passed, and remarking on the occasional courtier or servant who passed them by. He seemed pleased by the prince’s interest in the palace, and more than happy to expound at length about the inner workings of the kingdom.

 

Ja’far was far better company than Hakuryuu had anticipated, and he longed to carry their conversation on to more entertaining topics like astronomy and philosophy. However, they had reached the wing of the palace where a set of rooms had been sequestered for his use, and sleep beckoned him like a needy lover. He bid the adviser farewell, offering to continue their talk at another time, to which Ja’far readily agreed.

 

Though not as grandiose as his chambers back home, his lodgings were far from uncomfortable. He had been given a room decked out in lush greens and soft, sky blue, the furniture made from sandalwood and marble. The few belongings he had brought had been delivered and left for him to unpack, and a crystal jug of dandelion wine was sitting at his bedside.

 

Hakuryuu shed his clothes and sought out the bath, which had been drawn and filled with salts and herbs. The water was cool, and the tub was rimmed in sweet smelling candles that nearly lulled him to sleep as he soaked. By the time he left the bath, dinner had been set out on a table by the window facing the setting sun.

 

Foregoing manners in the face of hunger, the prince used his hands to pick apart the grilled fish, popping roasted fruits into his mouth between bites. The bread was fresh, steaming hot at the center, and was perfect for mopping up the blood and juice left on the plate. Hakuryuu ate his fill, then lounged in his chair and watched the sky, sipping dandelion wine and sucking on candied robin eggs.

 

Once the sun had set and darkness had enveloped the sky, the prince allowed himself to shuffle over to the bed. He brushed the canopy aside, and once more foregoing manners, collapsed face first into the comforter. No sooner had he rolled himself over and squirmed under the blankets than he was asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The king did not meet with him alone the next day. A servant fetched him from his rooms around midday and led him through the halls to a dining room overlooking the water, leaving him at the doors. Inside, there were more people than he had anticipated already settled about the table.

 

On one side was Alibaba, cracking nutshells open with his fingers and digging out the insides. A few seats down was Ja’far, pouring over waif thin sheets of paper between sips of some dark, steaming liquid. Across from him, an elegant man with cropped hair, who almost shimmered in the light. A darker skinned man was leaned against him, gnawing on a few flower petals as his companion recited a prayer over their meal.

 

In the seats nearest the door, a pair of women were sharing a plate of candied meat. One was small, birdlike in her thinness and had hair of dandelion yellow. The other was voluptuous and enchanting, though when her hair shifted it revealed a set of closed gills behind her ears. As he glanced around, Hakuryuu noted at least three other presences, all tucked quietly into the shadows, observing the meal.

 

In the middle of it all sat Sinbad, his head leaned against the knuckles of one hand, a goblet of wine in the other. A man was lounging in his lap, polishing a golden knife with idle boredom.

 

“Oh, hey Hakuryuu, you made it!” Alibaba called cheerily.

 

He waved him over, gesturing to the chair next to him like it wasn’t a given this was where Hakuryuu would sit. The atmosphere in the room shifted faintly, but after the open hostility that blanketed most shared meals in the UnSeelie palace, it didn’t bother him.

 

Sinbad did not address him as he took his seat and though he was anxious to begin their conversation, he held his tongue. Alibaba filled his plate with odds and ends from across the table, nudging bowls and platters at him when he waved him off. They squabbled quietly until he allowed the golden prince to pour him a goblet of something that smelled of licorice and took a sip.

 

Hakuryuu devoted half of his attention to Alibaba, who had begun drawing several of the table’s occupants into conversation, and the other half to the king and his companion. Curiosity and fascination kept his attention divided. It had taken only moments to identify the man in the king’s lap, and Hakuryuu couldn’t find the willpower to keep his eyes off him. Truth be told, this was his favorite of all of Sinbad’s fabled companions. The very first.

 

Scheherazade had made Sinbad’s first trial nigh impossible. He was to best a dragon and bring her proof of his victory, something undeniable and unattainable through other means.

 

Dragons were some of the oldest creatures in all of Sidhe, they had existed since before the courts, before the Wilde Hunt, before anything at all. A pureblooded dragon may be as young as a child, or as old as the sun and moon, and appear anywhere in between. They were revered, worshipped, and ultimately left to their own devices by anyone who knew what was good for them.

 

Sinbad, young and bullheaded, blinded by his ambition, had gone in search of a dragon with every intention of taking its life. A dragon’s hoard could be stolen, its scales plucked from where it shed, a horn lopped off, a fang pulled. Some would give blood or skin for the right price. The only undeniable proof seemed to be a dragon’s head.

 

So he sought out a dragon, scoured the mountains where several were rumored to live, and stole inside the first lair he came across. No one said the fight had to be fair, to best an opponent was simply to be victorious. He would take the dragon’s head in its sleep and have done with.

 

As the story went, Sinbad had crept into the dragon’s chambers, blade at the ready, only to be frozen in place by the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Dragons had long ago gained a talent for changing their shape so they could mingle more easily with the fae, and this one happened to be in such a form when Sinbad found him. When their eyes met, Sinbad fell madly in love.

 

( Or at least, that was how the story went. Sinbad loves to tell it, with much passion and vigor, but moreso for the picture it paints than any truth it holds. His dragon _had_ been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, oh yes, but it didn’t stop him going after his head. He simply omitted their fight, the blood that had been spilled and the scars gained, and skipped to the bit where he had held a blade to his dragon’s throat, looked into his eyes, and known he _had_ to have him.

 

Love, devotion, and loyalty had come much later. )

 

When he had returned to Scheherazade, he had brought three things with him to prove he had bested a dragon. The first was the dragon himself, who took his true form before all assembled in the court that day and bowed his head to their Queen. The second was a name. Dragons were powerful creatures, ancient, tied to Sidhe itself, and their names were overwhelming for those who tried to speak them.

 

Sinbad had earned the dragon’s name, and spoke it to the awed court; _Dragul_. He coined him _Drakon_ for those unworthy of his true name’s power, and then presented his third proof. Dragul, before the Seelie Queen and her court, swore his loyalty to Sinbad, until the sun left the sky, and into the eternal night that would follow at the end of time.

 

It was a romantic story, but Hakuryuu had always liked the parts about the dragons best. Up until now, he had never had a chance to meet one outside of his own imagination. A boyish part of him was far too excited to be sitting across the table from Dragul.

 

“A question.” the dragon said suddenly, as if he could sense himself being thought about. He twirled the dagger in his hand until the blade was pointed at Hakuryuu. “Are you perhaps named after _Haku-ryuu_ , the dragon of olde who was a companion of Queen Mab?”

 

“Yes.” Hakuryuu answered, startled. “It was my father’s choice.”

 

Dragul spun the blade around so it was resting against his lover’s chin, a smug smile curling his lips.

 

“Told you so.”

 

“Damn.” Sinbad huffed. “I was sure it was just a coincidence.”

 

Hakuryuu couldn’t help giving the king an incredulous look.

 

“You thought it was a coincidence that I, Prince of UnSeelie court, was named after our first Queen’s closest friend?”

 

“He pretends to be very wise,” Ja’far drawled from down the table. “But in reality he is an idiot.”

 

Sinbad scowled and handed his smirking lover his goblet, pretending not to watch as he downed its contents. When the goblet was empty, the dragon tilted his head back further and held his mouth open, allowing the last few drops to drip onto his tongue. The king’s hand clenched on the arm of his chair, eyes burning with unrepentant _want_.

 

“It is a good name.” Dragul said, addressing Hakuryuu. “Have you earned it though, I wonder?”

 

“If I have not yet, I would like to think I will.”

 

“By killing the Queen?”

 

The atmosphere around the table shifted a fraction, like everything had just been tilted at a slight angle. No one seemed particularly hostile, but Hakuryuu couldn’t ignore how every set of eyes was suddenly directed at him.

 

Hakuryuu drew himself up straighter, adopting the stiff posture he kept in court. The air around him chilled, so his next breath came out in a faint waft of steam.

 

“Yes.” he said unflinchingly.

 

Dragul set the empty goblet down and twisted himself out of the king’s lap, settling on the arm of his chair instead. He crossed his arms loosely, the golden dagger he had been toying with mysteriously missing from his hands.

 

“And here I thought you may deny it in some way.”

 

“I did not come here to play games.”

 

“Life is a game.” Sinbad spoke. “Each move you make effects the ones made against you, and so forth. For example; you being here. You’ve come to ask for my support, but then what?”

 

His eyes, unreadable pools of molten metal, bore into the prince. Hakuryuu kept his expression schooled to blankness, unwilling to allow any to see him unnerved. Every fae in this room was more dangerous than they appeared, and the two across from him had an excellent chance at actually being able to kill him, if they wanted. He had to tread cautiously.

 

“That depends on your answer.” he replied. “Whether you agree or decline, the outcome will change.”

 

Sinbad nodded, sitting forward so his elbows rested on the table.

 

“Suppose I say yes, that I will support you in this endeavor. Let’s forget for a moment why I might agree and just say I do; what do you do next?”

 

An answer squirmed up from his chest, but Hakuryuu did not open his mouth to let it free. His confidence faltered as he assessed the words resting on the tip of his tongue and realized that they were painfully flawed. Faults in his logic began manifesting themselves with alarming speed as the silence stretched on.

 

The Seelie fae continued staring at him unblinkingly, waiting for his reply, but he couldn’t find the words. Silence seemed to smother the room, though in reality the pause between words had likely been very brief.

 

 “As far as I can tell, there’s one of two reasons you’ve come to me for help.” Sinbad continued. “The first is that you know you can’t defeat the Queen on your own, and you want aid in battle. The second if that you know that the fallout of her death will be too much for you to weather on your own. I would wager it was the first.”

 

Hakuryuu kept his mouth shut. If Sinbad’s history taught those who dealt with him anything, it was that one should never bet against him. So the king went on.

 

“However, if Seelie fae help you to kill the Queen, then that will only result in promoting the dissent between courts and likely lead to war. If you were to somehow be able to kill her on your own and Seelie backed you after the fact, the result would be the same. Either way; the rift grows, and war looms on the horizon.”

 

“And if nothing is done, then whatever she has planned will come to pass and it will mean death for us all, no doubt.” Hakuryuu interjected sharply. “So long as the Queen breathes, she will find a way to carry out her plans. Thwart one and she will find another way to accomplish her goal in another hundred seasons. It will not end!”

 

“I don’t disagree. But I fear an UnSeelie in chaos as much as I fear your Queen’s plans.”

 

“ _She is_ _not my Queen_.”

 

The words came hissed icily from between Hakuryuu’s bared teeth. The table drew a collective breath, only the king and his lover seemingly unmoved by the UnSeelie prince’s sudden rage. Dragul tilted his head, as if to observe Hakuryuu from a new angle.

 

Sinbad sighed.

 

“I don’t blame you for being blinded by your hatred.” he said. “You finally have a chance for revenge. Whether you really care about the wellbeing of Seelie court or not; your opportunity for vengeance _is_ a factor. You can’t deny that.”

 

“Of course it is!”

 

“Then that’s all the more reason to think this out rather than rushing in without a plan. If she gets what she wants, even in death, how are you going to feel?”

 

Hakuryuu grit his teeth and forced himself to close his eyes. There was no comforting cold in Seelie’s magic, no gentle brush of winter on the nape of his neck, so he reached down into the earth until he found the labyrinth of life pulsing beneath the dirt. He wound himself into it, leaving his senses with his body and focusing on the feeling of _life_.

 

When he breathed in, his anger had dissipated and he felt focused again. He drew back from the earth, up through the stone and back into his own body, opening his eyes once more.

 

“What do you propose?” he asked.

 

The king’s eyes flared with a mischievous light and when he smiled there was a playful curve to it. Dragul regarded him with a casual fondness, for he had seen this look on his lover’s face a thousand times, just before they got themselves into terrible trouble.

 

“First, we must discover what it is she has planned for Seelie. It serves none of us if her plans come to fruition, so that is the priority for now. Our movements after that will be determined mainly by whatever timeline we find ourselves working on.”

 

“Agreed.” Hakuryuu nodded. “Presuming we have the time to go about things methodically?”

 

“The court must be disrupted from within. It’s true that as Queen she has a certain amount of leverage we can’t eliminate, but the more UnSeelie begins to question her, the more likely they are to accept her death.”

 

“Impossible. Her supporters cannot be swayed, she has had their loyalty since the beginning and they will not change that now.”

 

“Please!” Sinbad scoffed. “If loyalty is a commodity here in Seelie, I can’t imagine it’s different in your court. No, she has their loyalty because her decisions have most often benefited them. Make them question her, remove the ones who won’t, so that when she says “go to war” those who are left will look to you for approval.”

 

This plan, if it was to be considered such a thing, was sounding more and more dangerous by the moment. Hakuryuu could already see it forming in his mind, the pathways between the different outcomes of these various actions, and a great many ended with his heart on a platter. Killing the Queen was reckless? This was _insane_.

 

( But, as those of you who know of the fae are aware, faeriekind has long been prone to madness. )

 

“It is all fine and good if you want me to become an opposing faction,” Hakuryuu said. “But I am only a Prince, I cannot take the throne when she is gone.”

 

“Of course not.” the king agreed. “Which is why a suitable replacement must be found and presented to the court. She has never claimed an heir, so even if they are not officially declared, as long as you’re the center of attention your choice will be the one supported.”

 

“And somewhere amidst all this, we craft a manner in which to kill her.”

 

“Naturally.”

 

Hakuryuu exhaled slowly.

 

“This plan,” he said. “It hinges on a lot of things we cannot foresee. And even if we can follow it to the letter, it will not go unnoticed by the Queen.”

 

“That’s true. But from what I understand, she’s already come for you once, Hakuryuu. I’m sure you’ll find a way to survive her again.”

 

Alibaba sucked in a sharp breath from beside him, but for some reason, Hakuryuu couldn’t be bothered to feel the rage from before. He was too focused on other things, on plans and decisions and a political battlefield he was suddenly going to have to conquer. The road ahead was longer and more treacherous than he had anticipated, but it would be worth it in the end.

 

His decision had been made long before he spoke, still he leaned forward and matched the king’s posture.

 

“Your interest lies about as far as ensuring Seelie’s safety, how can I be sure of your support until the end?”

 

“I give you my word.” Sinbad said. His voice carried about the room in a booming echo, magic spilling from his lips in sparks of gold. “I, king Sinbad of Seelie court, will see this through until the very end. Until the UnSeelie Queen is dead, her throne reclaimed, Seelie safe and your vengeance had, Prince Hakuryuu.”

 

Gold danced before Hakuryuu’s eyes, skimming through the air and tickling against his mouth. He parted his lips and allowed the promise to slip inside him, tumbling down his throat and into his chest, where it bounced around his ribs like sparks in a hearth.

 

“Then I accept.” he replied, his own magic barely visible as it passed his lips.

 

The atmosphere shifted once again, lopsided but no longer possessing an underlying tension. The table’s occupants now glanced between themselves, conveying thoughts silently to one another, their minds already turning. Rather than being nervous, each and every one felt the restless excitement that came before a battle. How long had it been since their king had led them into the fray?

 

Alibaba whooped excitedly and threw an arm around Hakuryuu, pressing a sticky kiss against his cheek. Hakuryuu shoved at him playfully and allowed his mouth to pull into a vicious smile.

 

“Just one more thing.” he said, rubbing at the honey his friend had left on his skin. “How exactly do you intend to make all of this happen?”

 

Sinbad’s grin split his face, and from down the table Ja’far groaned.

 

“That is simple, Hakuryuu; we will start a rebellion.”

 

Dragul echoed Ja’far’s groan, lolling his head back to roll his eyes at the ceiling.

 

“Oh for star’s sake!” he groused. “This idiot has _always_ wanted to start a rebellion.”


	32. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel awful that this chapter is nearly two weeks late. I had no intention of taking another week off, nor to miss this Monday's update, and I really have no excuse. All I can say is that I have a lot on my plate right now, and unfortunately my laptop is beginning to go and can no longer connect to the internet, which makes the fact I don't actually _have_ internet where I currently reside that much more difficult to contend with. Projects have been getting away with me and eating up a lot of my time as well, and I really hope they're all worthy it when they're done.
> 
> I'm really sorry everyone. I'll try to be better in the future.
> 
> For the time being I think I need to let you all know that while I will be updating weekly, I think I may miss my Monday updates for another week or two. Serendipity will return to its normal schedule soon, I promise, but i need a little time to get all my ducks in a row.
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me even during this. If you feel so inclined, there's a link to go buy me a coffee on my profile, which I could sorely use right now.

As Judal opened his eyes, he was struck by the most intense feeling of déjà vu.

Twilight hung in a glistening gradient of purples and blues in the sky above and the sweet smell of saffron laden with fresh dew tickled his nose. They woke some distant memory he couldn’t quite grasp, just as the horizon marked with great forests and distant mountains framing the setting sun painted a portrait he swore he had seen before. More stars glittered in the darkening sky than he could count, winking to life as the sun faded.

With each new star Judal became a little surer that he knew them, by name and by constellation, as if he had spent all his life staring at this sky. If he closed his eyes, the far off babbling of a brook and the rustling of leaves took him back, far away into a memory just out of reach. Even the playful tugging of the breeze as it toyed with his braid felt like it belonged to some old friend.

The sense of déjà vu faded and then relief flooded him in a rush so powerful it was dizzying. In that moment he swore that he had been struggling to return here all his life, even if he had never known it. Sidhe felt like home, though he had never been _home_ before.

It was a feeling so overwhelming that it brought him to tears. The sensation was strange in retrospect; his eyes didn’t burn, and he neither shook nor sobbed, tears just rolled down his cheeks one after the other. His senses were electrified and numb all at once, unsure how to process this immense feeling of belonging. A weight had been lifted off him that he hadn’t even realized was there.

“Seelie.” Belial hissed. “Of course we had to land in _Seelie_.”

“Better than UnSeelie, at the moment.” Hakuryuu sighed.

He turned back to the open gap between realms, gazing through it one last time. In the center of the undulating distortion a sliver of the courtyard could still be seen. Hakuryuu stared at it and allowed himself to feel the small ache of yearning to return to that simple existence he had shared with Judal. The gap narrowed, until it could no longer be seen, then then tear sewed itself neatly shut.

Hakuryuu inhaled and when he exhaled he released the feeling of longing with it. They would have quiet days again, hours spent in silence just lying together. But first, his mother had to die.

“How far are we from the rebellion’s new encampment?” he asked, turning back to his vassals.

Zagan regarded the open plain they stood in thoughtfully, running his fingers through the butter yellow grass.

“Not far.” he said, after a pause. “Though we are not particularly close either. Two day’s journey, if we were to encounter no impediments.”

“In which direction?”

“West of here.”

“If I had a sense of where we were that might mean something to me. Where _are_ we?”

“Seelie.” Belial repeated sarcastically.

The prince shot him a disdainful look, then glowered at his second vassal when he sniggered.

“I can tell the border isn’t far. Seelie’s power wanes beneath us, but what lays beyond I am not sure. Which part of the wilds will we be entering, Zagan?”

“Does it matter? Belial and I will be accompanying you as far as the rebellion encampment, and you know of our reputation. It is why you fought so hard to win our favor, o prince.”

“I know you will protect yourselves and me, but that is no longer enough.”

“If you cannot place faith in this fool to heed your desire to protect your lover, then rest your belief in me.” Belial said. “As I once said; if he is yours, then he is mine as well.”

Hakuryuu considered this a moment, then nodded. Belial loathed to repeat himself and hated more to surrender to the will of another; his loyalty had been leagues more difficult to earn than Zagan’s. But once gained, he was an ally more powerful and loyal than any could imagine. If he would twice claim his prince’s lover, of whom he disapproved, as worthy of his protection, then he truly meant it.

“We should go.” Hakuryuu said, glancing around. “It is not safe to remain here. Be ready to call the wolves once we cross the border, I do not wish to delay our rendezvous any more than necessary.”

After saying this he realized, with some amusement, that his lover had probably never seen a dire wolf up close and certainly had never ridden one. Knowing Judal, he would be absolutely enthralled with the large canines and demand one of his own.

“I know walking is going to be tedious,” he said, turning to address his lover. “But bear with it for a little while, Ju—Judal?”

Judal started, twisting around to look at him as if he hadn’t realized he was there. Immediately, Hakuryuu was aware of the tears on his cheeks and the distant expression on his face. His lover was looking right at him, but he felt miles away.

“Judal, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“What?”

As if coming out of a dream, Judal blinked rapidly. He seemed to realize he was crying and reached up to rub at his eyes, hastily wiping his cheeks with his sleeves.

“Yeah—I mean no! No, I’m fine. I’m totally fine. Sorry, did you say something? I kind of…”

He trailed off, clearly not sure how to verbalize whatever had just happened to him. Hakuryuu reached out and pulled his hand from his cheek, only to replace it with his own. As he expected, Judal tilted his head into his touch.

“It may be an effect of the journey.” Zagan postulated, drawing their gazes. He shrugged his broad shoulders, faint smile curling his mouth. “Who knows! I have never brought a changeling across the realms before, have you? Perhaps it has merely worn him down a little.”

Judal stared at Zagan, searching his expression for some hint of deception. Though the vassal’s mouth said one thing, he had the distinct impression that he knew far more than he was letting on. But his visage remained placid, even under scrutiny.

Hakuryuu seemed less than convinced by this explanation. He grappled with the desire to question his lover further, but when he met his eye again, it faded. Judal was a great many things, but a liar was not one, even before the faerie curse of honesty claimed him. If, or when, he wanted to talk about whatever had brought him to tears, he would.

“Come on.” said the prince gently, as he took his hand from his lover’s cheek and entwined their fingers instead. “We should start moving before it grows any darker, it would be unwise for us to journey too long past nightfall.”

“Right.” Judal squeezed his hand, adopting a familiar lopsided smile. “Lead the way!”

The journey westward began by cutting across the plain diagonally towards a line of thin trees fluttering with bright orange leaves. It was a fair distance from where they began, enough so that Judal was convinced they wouldn’t make it before dark. The setting sun cast long shadows over the grass as the party, led by Zagan, made their way through the field.

It was not until the trees were practically upon them that Judal realized they had traveled far more quickly than he had assumed they would. He was sure their pace had been without haste, and the sun didn’t appear to have moved more than a centimeter or two in the sky. The space seemed to have simply folded itself underneath them so they were deposited right where they wanted to be, he had just been too focused on the trees to notice.

Up close, the shivering leaves revealed themselves to be hundreds of thousands of butterflies, all congregated on wiry branches. Their wings were stunning, ranging from a soft apricot to a deep auburn, the edges jagged and lined in black. None of the butterflies moved when Zagan lifted one of the branches and ducked underneath, pausing on the other side with the branch still raised.

“Mind your head, these are carnivorous.” Hakuryuu murmured as he slipped under the branch.

Judal followed, peering curiously back at the butterflies.

“What kind of meat’s in a tree?”

“Pixies, probably.”

The vicious insects only infested the first few rows of trees, soon their orange wings faded into emerald leaves and the ground beneath their feet became fragrant earth. Moss climbed the trunks of trees and mushrooms ballooned around upturned roots, while the trees themselves grew in scattered spacing which created no discernable pathway. Zagan seemed sure of where he was going, though, and Hakuryuu was sure of him, so Judal felt confident ambling along after his lover with their hands entwined.

To Judal, walking was anything but tedious. Everywhere he looked there was something new to see, or something fascinating to see again. Fluorescent mushrooms being eaten by glittering beetles, russet squirrels with three tails chasing each other across the canopy, branches twisting and interlocking into geometric shapes. There were leaves in shapes he’d never seen and trees he couldn’t name, animals he glanced at and then promptly forgot the likeness of for reasons he wasn’t sure.

A lightning bug flew into his face and he realized that it was in fact a minute, human-esque fae surrounded by light. The tiny figure smiled cheekily and darted off to join a hovering circle of its fellows, who were all emitting a faint humming sound. As the light faded, more and more of the miniature fae appeared with their flickering lights, weaving through the treetops and swooping in close to observe the travelers.

Neither time nor space behaved as they did in the mortal realm; who could say how long they had been walking, or how far they had gone. The forest floor faded from dirt to grass and back to dirt again, the trees fluctuated in size, shape and color, and a lingering scent of passion fruit filled the air. They climbed over boulders and skipped over streams, followed a dry riverbed until it became muddy and sometimes seemed to be going back the way they came.

Judal felt as though he could keep walking for hours. He wasn’t sore, wasn’t tired, wasn’t out of breath; in fact there was a spring in his step and he felt full of energy. He leapt up onto fallen logs, teetering back and forth as he walked along them, still holding his lover’s hand. Hakuryuu indulged his whims and curiosities with an iron grip on Judal’s hand, never allowing him further than an arms’ length away.

When night fell a swath of silence came with it. Darkness oozed from between the trees, and beyond their line of sight the forest was all blackness and quiet. A feeling of unease settled heavily onto them as eyes belonging to unknown creatures winked from the shadows. Judal could feel himself being watched from all sides and hastened his steps to keep close to his prince.

Zagan led them under an archway of tangled vines and they emerged into a grove surrounded by pastel trees, all glowing amidst the darkness. Their bioluminescence made the swaying grass shimmer and overhead the canopy was a cloud of pale pinks and blues painted in gorgeous bell shaped blossoms. The flickering pixies dipped in and out of the flowers, returning from their venture all sticky with yellow nectar they licked from their tiny hands.

“Holy shit…” Judal breathed.

Hakuryuu watched his lover’s awed expression from the corner of his eye, smiling faintly.

“We rest here.” he announced, giving both his vassal’s pause. “I trust Seelie’s night more than the wild’s, and it has been a long day.”

He said this still looking at Judal, who noticing his gaze, perked up.

“I can keep going!”

“Spirited.” Belial muttered as he slid past.

The prince chuckled through his nose and finally released Judal’s hand, only to slide his arm around his waist instead.

“I am sure you could, sweetling. But for tonight, let me savor the wonder in your eyes before you see any of the ugly things that lurk out there.”

“I mean, the yaksha was pretty ugly.”

“Yaksha?” Zagan frowned at his prince. “My prince, what kind of dealings did you have with a yaksha?”

“The kind where I flayed him to little pieces.” Hakuryuu dismissed. Judal laughed.

Belial’s magic was little more than a whisper in the air, soft enough to be missed if he were not so close by. He trailed the edges of the clearing with his fingers running along the trees, countless eyes blinking and rolling as he stared into the darkness. Creatures of bone had begun to surround him again, though their skeletons took on shapes and sizes far different than the ones Judal had seen.

At some point he slipped between the trees and disappeared, though this seemed to concern neither the prince nor the remaining vassal. Zagan pulled fresh branches from the trunks of trees as if they were made of clay, molding and curving them however he liked. Between the two thick boughs he laced sturdy vines and blanketed the netting in downy white moss, embellishing with a canopy made of a single massive flower with translucent petals.

Hakuryuu had slipped from Judal’s side as he stood transfixed watching this, only to return once the hanging fixture was complete. He seemed satisfied with it and waved Zagan off before taking his lover’s hand and guiding him to their bed.

“This is incredible.” Judal said. He buried his hands in the snowy moss, wondering at how soft it was. “Am I going to be able to do stuff like this?”

“Eventually, if your proclivity leans towards the manipulation of nature and living things.” Hakuryuu replied, hoisting himself up beside him. “And if not, I can always make something similar.”

“Not just the same?”

“Even identical things are rarely precisely the same.”

The prince’s wooden fingers tucked a lock of his lover’s hair behind his ear, brushing against his jaw as they retreated. He smiled at him, warm and sincere, the way that made Judal’s heart flutter like some painful cliché in his chest. It was impossible to resist that smile, he had to kiss it straight off his mouth just to stop his heart’s bird-like twittering.

Hakuryuu laughed against his mouth, returning the kiss affectionately.

“I take it that your first day in Sidhe has not been unbearable, then?”

“I mean, I haven’t seen a dragon so that’s kind of a bummer.” Judal sighed dramatically. Hakuryuu rolled his eyes. “But aside from that, it’s been… kind of surreal.”

The prince nodded, though they both knew he couldn’t begin to understand how different this was for Judal. His whole life had been spent amidst shifting geography and impossible geometry, strange creatures and indescribable wonders. He was almost callous to the awe that came with these fantastical things.

“Despite the potential danger, I had hoped we might end up in UnSeelie’s lands.” Hakuryuu admitted. “There are so many parts of my home I wish to show you. Places I wish to take you. Things I want you to experience…”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, right? I’ll follow you anywhere you lead me, Hakuryuu.”

“I fear I will lead you to some very unpleasant places.”

“That’s fine, as long as you let me stay by your side.”

A familiar flash of desire lit the prince’s eyes. He looked away for a moment, but only long enough to reached up into the boughs above them and pluck something that hung among the flowers. The fruit lingered in his grasp, held carefully in his palm as he lowered it into sight. It was a peach; Judal’s favorite.

“For you, _Judal_.” Hakuryuu cooed, rolling his lover’s name off his tongue as if to make it sound how spun sugar looked.

Judal accepted the fruit without hesitation, holding out his hand so it could be placed delicately into his palm. It was covered in soft fuzz and its outside was the palest shade of pink dusted with rose near the stem. A perfect example of his favorite food, and he was sure Hakuryuu knew it.

He flicked his plait over his shoulder and leaned against his lover’s side, tucking his head against his shoulder. The peach turned in his hands, unassuming and lovely.

“You know,” Judal hummed. “I read once that if you eat faerie food you can never return to the world of men. Food will be ash in your mouth and water will taste like mud. If you take what a faerie gives you, you’re bound to their world forever.”

“Is that so?”

“So I’ve read.”

He let the peach rest in his hand and sat up straight again, casting his gaze to his lover’s eyes. Glacier and ocean depths stared back at him, sparks of white flickering around his pupils.

“Some speculate that it doesn’t just bind you to the world of fae, but to the one who gave you the food in particular. Is that right, _Hakuryuu_?”

The prince wore the ghost of a smile on his mouth, and his eyes danced with flickering magic.

“That depends what’s been done to it.” he replied.

The lovers stared at one another for a pregnant moment, then Judal turned his head and bit into the peach.

It was absolutely divine. The skin snapped beneath his teeth and gave way to lusciously soft meat underneath, while juice spilled from between his lips. He sucked, trying to catch the nectar, but it had already slid down his chin and over the fruit. Oh, it was sweet, and tart enough at the end to make the perfect contrast on his tastebuds. The first bite filled his mouth and made him feel so sated he couldn’t imagine taking another, but he had to.

The second bite was even better, more juice spilled into his mouth, coated his bottom lip in sticky syrup he licked away with an equally sticky tongue. The third scraped the pit and he groaned at the thought that this may ever be done, for it was so delicious he wanted to keep eating it forever. Each bite that followed was another sensation, another taste, another blissful excursion into the perfectness of what grew in Sidhe.

Hakuryuu watched him as he ate, utterly fascinated. He stared at how his jaw worked as he bit and chewed, tracing the rotations it made as he turned the fruit to pulp and swallowed it. The mess of nectar over his chin and fingers woke hunger that would not be abated without his lover’s skin beneath his lips. Each mouthful Judal took made the prince burn, itching to do things he really ought to ask permission before doing.

Judal was well aware of the eyes on him, he knew the heated gaze so well by now that just knowing it was there made warmth pool in his belly. He moaned with contentment as another bite slid deliciously down his throat, and he heard Hakuryuu suck in a breath. The peach was almost gone, but he savored every bite as he had the first.

When there was just the pit, Judal contemplated for a moment if he might eat that too, before dropping it from between his fingers. Hakuryuu, at the end of his patience, could wait no longer.

He pounced upon his lover, groaning and whining as if Judal had been denying him something for hours and hours without reprieve. His greedy mouth pressed wet kisses over the changeling’s chin, soft tongue cleaning the stickiness from his skin. Laughter bubbled from between Judal’s lips, which then became gasps as his lover’s teeth dug grooves over his pulse and down his neck.

“Hakuryuu!” he inhaled sharply as firm fingers snuck beneath the hem of his shirt. “Is it really the time--?”

As if he were the peach and Hakuryuu were intent on devouring him, his teeth sunk into Judal’s earlobe. The changeling whimpered delightedly, already squirming his way into his prince’s lap.

“You will find, sweetling,” Hakuryuu huffed against his ear, drawing his shirt up over his abdomen. “That for fae, the better question is; when will it _not_ be the time?”

Judal laughed breathlessly and allowed himself to fall back onto the bed of moss. His lover’s body quickly covered his own, and their chortles were lost between pants and gasps for breath. The peach pit rested in the grass below them, and as the night wore on it sunk into the earth, emerging as pale shoots at dawn’s first light.


	33. Divergence 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do I begin to apologize for how long this chapter has taken? I'm so sorry everyone. Real life became entirely overwhelming and I honestly lost track of how much time had passed since I last uploaded a chapter. I feel horrible, and I know people are upset.
> 
> I'm going to try to get back to my Monday updating schedule as I was before, but it may take me a little time. This time, please believe me when I say that weekly updates will be returning. A massive chunk of the coming arc is fully fleshed out and just waiting to be written, so I'm going to tackle that right away and get to work. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for your abundance of patience, and I really hope I haven't lost any of you in the interim. I'm still without internet where I reside, but I'm planning to set up a Twitter soon to hopefully be more easily reachable by anyone who wants to contact me!

The crossing of the border was subtle, nary but a shift in the air about them to show for the trespass from within the governed lands of Seelie into the untamed wilds. The flowers nested in Zagan's hair blossomed angry red and alarming sapphire, their hearts bright with poisonous pollen. Beneath his feet the earth began to twist with cunning nettles, soon devoured by pale fungi that followed the prince's path. These in turn were crushed to the earth under the heel of the changeling, tucked close beside his lover as they traversed the shadowed brush.

Belial watched. It was what he did most often, watching. His countless eyes, always winking in and out of existence as they pleased, all observed the world around him with the detached watchfulness of one who had lived too many lifetimes to be surprised by the oddities of existence. No one thing could ever occupy him, he had seen too much to find a single point of focus of any interest, yet a great many of his roving eyes trained themselves upon the young changeling.

What, he continued to ponder, could his prince see in this boy? The enraptured awe he regarded Sidhe with bordered on naivety, his seemingly boundless curiosity naught but a detriment. Zagan seemed to find him amusing, which Belial supposed he was, but  _amusement_  had never been a priority for the prince. These attributes he couldn't see piqued his dormant curiosity, akin to an itch just bothersome enough to be scratched. The deeper they delved into Sidhe, the more may be uncovered about this peculiar boy his prince had brought home with him.

When the border had disappeared behind them and the air had settled, the party paused so that the prince's wolves may be summoned. Belial blew a whistle made of bone, which carried a single silent note. It echoed unheard through the trees and across the wildlands, carried on wind and river current, over borders and through settlements, until it reached the wolves' ears.

They came with the swiftness of the northern wind, powerful legs churning against the earth as they raced across the distance between themselves and their master. Only minutes passed from when the whistle was blown to when the first howl echoed through the trees.

The prince turned towards the direction it had come from, his elegant ears twitching gently, as a second howl joined the first. He smiled, then cupped his hands around his mouth and howled in return. A chorus of lupine cries filled the woodland as the wolves all followed their master's voice, rushing through the underbrush until they reached him.

In the olde times, dire wolves had very few natural predators and ruled a vast portion of the lands that would become UnSeelie court. They were ruthless hunters able to track their prey across any distance, prowling at their heels if they couldn't catch them, until their prey was too exhausted to go on. Harsh climates left them unaffected and their bodies could withstand physical and magical assault long enough to kill almost any attacker. Mab, the first Queen, earned their respect and took many of them into the court with her, but even now the wolves who roamed free were to be avoided.

The sight of five dire wolves emerging from the shadows, led by a beast with fur of ash turned almost pitch by the light, was a chilling one. Yet the moment the wolf laid eyes on Hakuryuu, his tail began to wag and the image of a vicious predator melted into an excited pup. Hakuryuu dropped to his knees and opened his arms, embracing the wolves as they bounded over to him, licking his face and snuffling at his clothes between excited yips and whines.

The prince had been given his first wolf when he was but a babe, raised alongside his beastly partner so that they formed an unwavering kinship. His pack was as much his family as his blood. And like his blood, a certain amount of etiquette was required to approach these creatures; etiquette the changeling surely lacked.

Sure enough, Judal neither distanced himself from Hakuryuu nor averted his eyes when the first wolf caught sight of him. Her ears flicked back, tawny hackles raising as she gazed at the unfamiliar figure before her. The wise thing to do would be to bow to the beast and step back, and Belial could have told the changeling as much, but why bother? He would encounter far less forgiving dangers than the beasts his own lover commanded.

Could he not sense the raw power exuding from the creatures before him, Belial wondered. Were his senses so dulled that he had no inkling of worry when he gazed into the eyes of a predator so vastly more intelligent than anything that lived in the mortal realm? What could possess this boy to stand there, undeterred, and have the gall to extend his hand to the beast?

All Belial could think was that the changeling was as oblivious as a newborn and driven by childlike curiosity. Had he not been covered in the scent of their master, the wolves would have most assuredly devoured him by now. It was merely luck that seemed to see him through.

He expected the beasts to begin snarling and bearing their teeth, but instead they circled the changeling with interest, pressing their noses to his extended hands and huffing as they brushed against him. Their curiosity was abnormal, and startled Belial enough to make him blink. Zagan watched the proceedings with an airy smile and a quirked brow, and the prince seemed to be the only one unsurprised.

Forget obliviousness, the changeling was a fool. He knelt to greet the wolves like they knew him, dared to stroke his hands through their fur and open his mouth to share breath with them. Belial waited for the satisfying scream of pain and crunch of bone beneath powerful jaws, but it simply never came. The wolves, like their master, saw something in Judal that Belial could not.

Hakuryuu settled astride the leader of the pack and without hesitation, the changeling swung himself up behind him. The wolf shifted beneath their weight, yet neither he nor his pack mates protested to their new rider. Judal hooked his arms around Hakuryuu's middle and offered him a smile that could pass for giddy, if one didn't pay attention to the sharpness at its edges.

Something bright and nearly devious glinted in the changeling's eyes; mortal bravado, Belial reasoned. The boy had been raised in the world of men, where magic and all that came with it neither existed nor belonged. Only stupidity could explain his unflinching awe in the face of the unknown.

Yet, the more he watched the changeling, the less foolishness seemed a trait that fit him.

With the prince and his lover no longer traveling on foot, their speed increased significantly. Zagan continued to lead them, disappearing and reappearing between the trees at different distances, further and closer at the same time. Belial remained behind, moving through space as one swam through water, more than able to overtake the pack if he wished.

The dire wolves raced through the brush with vicious elegance, bounding over fallen trees and across small streams. They moved in a coordinated group, encircling the riders while still being led by the beast they rode. One or two wolves broke off from the pack now and again, disappearing into the trees, only to return with bloodied maws and wild eyes. Few living things crossed their path, but some more daring creatures howled and cried from the shadows.

The changeling continued to smile.

A fool had not the awareness to be observant, or the consciousness to control any impulses they may possess. The changeling was infinitely curious; his eyes always roaming, head swiveling, lips spilling questions that passed as mundane to the fae. But even as they rode his posture mirrored the prince's, shifting subtly to match his lover's whenever he moved. His eyes lingered on plants, branching pathways, and flickering lights in the distance, but he never indicated a desire to stray from where Zagan led.

Hakuryuu entertained his lover as they traveled with stories of his escapades with his closest companion, the prince Alibaba. These were ill-advised adventures and youthful dalliances the prince recalled with amusement and fondness, all told with gilt embellishments he did little to hide. The changeling laughed and teased between his recounting, plucking the gold from his stories and digging for the less flattering truth beneath.

The changeling began to take on a clearer shape in Belial's mind. He saw it in his wide smile and the glow lighting his crimson eyes, but moreso in the wickedness of his tongue. When beasts cried from the darkness, the changeling looked towards them rather than flinch away, and when the prince pressed fruit to his lips he ate it without question. All actions of a fool, had there not been such alarming perceptiveness in the words that fell from his sweetened mouth.

The boy was fearless. Not the kind of fearless that walked hand in hand with obliviousness, but the rare kind that coexisted with cunning and wit. He knew danger, had looked into the face of it before and found himself unimpressed by its terrible jaws. Before him stretched a world he had never inhabited occupied by creatures all older and wiser than him, and tens of times more deadly, and yet he laughed. Curiosity ought to have been his bane, but spurned by fearlessness it became a dangerous combination.

Most worrisome though, was that the prince seemed all too aware of this. He had made no effort to shield Judal from the wolves or warn him of the dangers of the wildlands. When they crossed through trees hung with the half-eaten carcass of some serpentine beast, he brushed it off with bemusement that drew laughter from his lover. This fearlessness that Judal possessed was not foreign to the prince in the least.

"You seem preoccupied, old friend. Shall I lend an ear for you to spill your troubles to?"

Belial's eyes roamed over the image of Zagan that had appeared beside him, another set focused on the chartreuse figure leading the way.

"Focus on ensuring we reach the encampment by the morrow, Zagan."

"You know me well enough to know I am able to be in far more than  _two_  places at once, Belial."

A scowl twisted the pale fae's features, which only amused his companion.

"The changeling." he offered brusquely.

Zagan raised a brow.

"Oh? And here I thought you were the fondest of him, between the two of us." the blond fae taunted, amusement curling his mouth.

"The boy sees what is meant to be unseen and hears what is meant to be unheard. When I called the wolves he flinched, as if the whistle's tune met his ears as well."

"Peculiar, indeed! Perhaps he is some sort of beastial fae."

"He yet wears a mortal skin, have you forgotten? No mere beast's ears are that attuned."

"Yes, yes, I suppose that is true. Quite strange, quite strange."

It would not be unlike Zagan to have come to mock his brooding thoughts, but despite his tone that did not seem to be the case this time. Though they fell silent, the fae's double kept pace beside Belial, eyes trained forward on the backs of the riders between them. He too could sense whatever uncanny atmosphere surrounded the boy their prince seemed so enamored with.

"There are few things these eyes of mine cannot see." Belial said once their silence had stretched over miles. "Yet, this boy clouds the vision in all of them. What lies at his heart, or even just beneath the skin he wears, I cannot say. The longer I look upon him, the less sure of him I become."

"You suspect him of duplicity?" Zagan asked, sharpness cutting the amusement from his voice.

Belial scoffed.

"Were he not what he claims to be, the prince would have known it far before now. And since he must be what he says; he is  _far_  too young to play the games our prince is capable of."

"I suppose a mere babe would be unlikely to deceive him, if  _we_  are almost incapable of such."

The coldness drifted from Zagan's voice, and when he spoke again the airy bemusement had returned.

"If you are unconcerned for the prince's wellbeing, then why dwell on it, old friend? Are you so enraptured with his new conquest? I think he will be disinclined to share this one."

"Hold your tongue, Zagan." Belial snapped, eyes narrowing across his body. "If the prince hears you speak that way of his lover, I doubt he will take it well."

Zagan acknowledged his misstep with a nod, but continued to smile with barely contained mirth. The scowl returned to Belial's visage, and he turned his gaze back to their charges, still sharing stories as the wolves carried them through the wilds. Another silence passed in shifting landscapes before the vassals spoke again.

"I choose to wonder no longer on the changeling's nature. I do not think I will understand it for some time to come." Belial admitted. "What I dwell on now is what twist of fate it was that led our prince to the threshold, and into the arms, of this peculiar creature."

"Serendipitous, wouldn't you say?" Zagan chortled with uncontained delight. If he had made a joke, Belial didn't catch it. "In a moment of his most dire need, our prince finds himself at the door of a forgotten changeling."

"Perhaps it was serendipity, perhaps it was something else."

"Something else?"

Belial had finished speaking and would reply no further, Zagan could tell as much with a single glance. He clicked his tongue, murmuring something about his companion's standoffish nature, then vanished between the trees. Once more, there was but one of him, far in the distance.

The eyes that had trained themselves upon the confounding changeling began to wander once more, some closing to be replaced by others that opened on undisturbed patches of skin. Belial regarded the lovers, now trading playful words in a game of wits tinged with innuendo. He had rarely seen his prince quite so at ease in the presence of another, never so willing to be outwitted.

Serendipitous, then, that the one he fell into the arms of was such a perfect match for him. Serendipitous, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid-k-Night did [another lovely fanart](http://mid-k-night.tumblr.com/post/161721569642/orsa-verba-i-might-not-be-able-to-buy-you-a) for this fic while I was away! Please go give it some love!


	34. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy New Year!**
> 
> I want to thank everyone who has waited so long for this story to return, and reassure all of you that as of now Serendipity and the Things Between will be returning to its promised Monday publishing schedule! 
> 
> All of the comments from the past few months have meant so much to meet, and really kept me going in the times when I wondered if it was worth it to continue this story. I'm so touched to have everyone here with me, cheering me on.
> 
> I'm looking forward to talking to all of you in the new year, now please, enjoy the chapter!

Judal’s first impression of the rebellion’s temporary base of operations was that he was surprised it hadn’t already been discovered and eliminated. It was positioned atop the gentle slope of a grassy knoll, with little cover from the surrounding landscape. Tents had been scattered in orderly groupings at the knoll’s peak, and smoke billowed brazenly into the open air from fires within the encampment. After the attack on their forces, which for them had been little more than a month prior, Judal had been expecting something more… _subtle_.

 

Unimpressed by the lackadaisical camouflage, he followed Hakuryuu as they began their climb up the knoll’s slope, and remained completely unaware of the glamour that swathed the camp until he walked straight through it. It pulled at him faintly, as though he were walking through a layer of cellophane, or sliding his whole body through a particularly large soap bubble. His skin prickled as magic brushed coyishly over him, like the wandering fingers of a lover, before it dispersed back into the dome around them.

 

He couldn’t help throwing a glance back over his shoulder, and found the knoll’s base much farther than he remembered. When he squinted, he could just make out the mesmeric shifting of the glamour in the air, no doubt hiding the camp from the world outside.

 

“A strong glamour.” Hakuryuu noted.

 

“I didn’t see it.” Judal admitted.

 

Hakuryuu cast him a sideways look which the dire wolves seemed to match, but said nothing more.

 

As they approached the edge of the camp, the pack fell behind until only Hakuryuu’s mount remained with them. He fell into a lazy gait at their heels, yet close enough that at times both fae’s fingers brushed his muzzle. Judal found the wolf’s presence reassuring, especially in the absence of Zagan and Belial. The two ancients had disappeared as soon as the knoll rose up from the surrounding plain, their duty done, and left the prince and his lover to find the rest of the way on their own.

 

When they crested the knoll’s peak, Judal was greeted with his first clear sight of a faerie camp. The tents were all made of leaves or grass woven together in neat rows, and fae of all shapes and sizes bustled between them in armor of leather and metal. The first fae to notice them tripped over air, thoroughly breaking the atmosphere of mystery.

 

“M-my prince--!” he gasped, drawing the attention of the fae closest to him.

 

He stooped into an awkward half-bow, apparently so taken aback that he’d forgotten the supply crate he was carrying, which nearly spilled across the grass as he bent.

 

“It is good to see you all well.” Hakuryuu greeted, addressing every fae in eyesight.

 

Loud murmurs erupted from just within the camp, accompanied by a flurry of movement as several figures began to dart about. A handful of fae dropped what they were carrying and disappeared farther into the camp, while others came in closer, craning to get a look at the returned royal. Judal felt several sets of eyes flit past him, only to glance sharply back and stare.

 

His skin itched under the unfamiliar gazes, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of squirming. Beside him, the dire wolf curled his lip to show vicious teeth and took a step closer to Judal, knocking his shoulder against his hip. Judal dropped his hand to rest in the wolf’s thick fur, using the touch to ground himself. This was just like the first day of school, only with fae instead of teenagers.

 

“Stars, man, quit gawking!”

 

From the edge of the gathering crowd came an exasperated voice which made the tips of Hakuryuu’s ears twitch. A young man stepped forward and Judal had to stare at his hair, which was the same color as fresh raspberries, of all things. He turned to look at them with eyes not unnaturally large, but just a shade too big for his face, just enough to be somewhat unsettling, which boasted cerise irises.

 

The newcomer clicked his tongue, startling the stunned fae from his staring.

 

“Go alert the others, and be quick about it!”

 

“Yes! Of course, sir!”

 

After a moment of deliberation over what to do with his crate, the rebel scurried off with it still in his arms, contents bouncing.

 

The magenta fae strode forward, stopping only once he was nearly within arm’s distance of Hakuryuu. He was shorter than the prince by a head, but held his back with the same regal posture and jutted his chin with a similar confidence. Judal could see a resemblance in their jaws, the straight tips of their pointed ears, and a tension between them that screamed familiarity.

 

Hakuryuu nodded stiffly.

 

“Cousin.”

 

His brief greeting was met with an owlish blink.

 

“Cousin.” the other parroted in reply.

 

There was a pregnant pause, wherein Judal glanced between the two with confusion. Then, without warning, the shorter fae threw his arms out.

 

“Oh for the love of the moon, Hakuryuu, _get over here_!” he demanded with an exasperated fondness.

 

Immediately, Hakuryuu’s shoulders relaxed. A smile split the stern line of his mouth, and he stepped forward into his cousin’s embrace all too willingly.

 

“I am _glad_ to see you, Kouha.” he said. “It has been far too long.”

 

“Far too long indeed!” Kouha laughed as he clapped Hakuryuu on the back. “And then, you go off and get yourself killed! Or so we’re all meant to think.”

 

“I assure you, that was not intentional.”

 

They separated, Kouha grinning and looking his cousin over with the same genial exasperation from before.

 

“And look at you, fit as ever! Worried for nothing, did I?”

 

A single breathy laugh escaped the prince.

 

“Not for nothing, I promise you.” he assured. “There was real peril between now and the last time we met, cousin.”

 

“Maybe so, and I would love to hear all about it over a bottle of wine--”

 

Here he paused, tilting his head just a fraction, his wide eyes rolling until they fixed on Judal.

 

“However, I cannot help but notice that you have not come back alone, and I admit that makes me _far_ more curious.”

 

Hakuryuu stepped back and took his place at Judal’s side again, resting a hand between his shoulder blades. The changeling was already standing straight, but he rolled his shoulders back in response, giving him an air of easy confidence.

 

“Kouha,” Hakuryuu began. “This is--”

 

“ _Hakuryuu!_ ”

 

Two more figures burst from the crowd, the first being a golden streak that slowed down to reveal a blond fae, and trailing behind him a crimson haired girl with a quiet expression. Upon laying eyes on the prince, the blond immediately teared up.

 

“Hakuryuu!” he repeated, choked. “It really is _you_!”

 

“If you cry, Alibaba, I will refuse to let you live it down.”

 

Alibaba laughed, and in his laughter one could hear the snap of burning twigs and the crackle of a warm hearth. He rushed forward again, this time almost bowling Hakuryuu over in his eagerness to throw his arms around him. The pair of princes shared a laugh and several thumps on the back, though Alibaba seemed more inclined to cling than Kouha.

 

“Good to see you well, Morgiana.” Hakuryuu greeted over Alibaba’s shoulder.

 

Morgiana inclined her head, mouth twitching up into a wan smile the longer her companion refused to let Hakuryuu free.

 

“Good to see you as well, Prince Hakuryuu. Would you like some assistance?”

 

“It’s alright, I am sure he will let me go in a moment.”

 

“Absolutely not! You’ll run off and do something _insane_ again!”

 

“That seems hardly fair as far as assumptions go.”

 

At this, Alibaba whipped back, though he kept a firm hold on Hakuryuu’s shoulders.

 

“Up a _mountain_!” he exclaimed. “You ran yourself up a damned _mountain_ and decided the _best possible way_ to handle an ambush was to just _toss yourself_ into the _mortal realm_! And then I had to climb that same damn mountain, Hakuryuu! Potentially to find your corpse!”

 

“Which, clearly, you did not find.”

 

“I had to go with your cousin! The frightening one!”

 

“Kougyoku?”

 

Alibaba hit his shoulder, but Hakuryuu only rocked back on his heels with a smirk.

 

“Kouen! Who by the way, looked about ready to just lay siege to the whole summit by the time we found you! ...Your arm, anyway.”

 

Surprise flickered briefly over Hakuryuu’s expression. Kouen, his eldest cousin, had been the one to come searching for him? It was true that the time when they had been at odds had passed in his youth, but he wasn’t sure he would consider them particularly close either. Certainly not close enough for Kouen to involve himself in this rebellion.

 

Or so he had thought. Perhaps, among the many other things Judal had taught him, he ought to learn to stop presuming things.

 

“I apologize, old friend.” he said, offering Alibaba a sincere smile. “I know this past moon must have been difficult for you, after what I did. Forgive me?”

 

Alibaba punched his other shoulder.

 

“Of course I forgive you, don’t be an idiot!”

 

Hakuryuu chuckled, but seemed relieved nonetheless.

 

“I was about to introduce Kouha when you two arrived.”

 

This time, Hakuryuu’s hand fell possessively to the small of Judal’s back, rather than between his shoulders. His palm pressed flat against the curve of his spine in a way that Judal had learned to associate with his lover feeling territorial. In response, he shifted his weight towards him and away from the dire wolf he had been absently petting throughout the reunion.

 

“This is Judal. He saved my life after I found myself in the world of men and took me in thereafter.” he paused, then added; “He is also my lover.”

 

To their credit, the three fae managed to only look mildly surprised rather than outright stunned, which is what Judal had expected. That, or horrified. In fact, Alibaba mostly looked indignant.

 

“You lose a limb, nearly die, get trapped in a poisonous land populated by mortals and, somehow, you come back to us with a _lover_?!” he gestured to Judal. “And a gorgeous one! What kind of luck is that?!”

 

“He also got his arm back.” Judal piped up.

 

Alibaba looked downright scandalized.

 

Kouha tipped his head back and laughed, hands resting on his slim hims.

 

“Moon and stars, Hakuryuu! When fate decides to smile on you, she certainly smiles brightly!”

 

“If that’s what you wanna call it.” Judal smirked. “He literally fell out of the sky in front of me.”

 

Now Kouha and Alibaba were both laughing, while the tips of Hakuryuu’s ears colored pink. He cleared his throat.

 

“Yes, well,” he said dismissively. “No one mentioned that tearing open the veil on a mountain might drop one from… the sky. An honest mistake was made.”

 

“This before or after you lost an arm and decided hopping dimensions was a good plan?”

 

Hakuryuu pinched Judal’s hip in retaliation, but received only a cheeky smile and more laughter for his trouble.

 

Morgiana, who had been staring intently at Judal since he was introduced, stepped forward now and drew in a pointed breath. Her nose wrinkled and her brow creased thoughtfully.

 

“You smell of fae.” she said. “But you look… _mortal_.”

 

“I’m a changeling.” Judal proclaimed.

 

He said it with pride, shoulders squared and chin tipped up in a small show of defiance that dared her to say something about it. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what kind of reception that announcement was meant to get him. Aside from being rare, Hakuryuu hadn’t told him much about the opinions surrounding changelings.

 

( And he probably should have asked, but that would have required him remembering that it might be an issue in the first place, which he hadn’t. )

 

Kouha whistled lowly.

 

“A changeling, in this day and age.”

 

“Forget just smiling,” Alibaba shook his head. “Fate is definitely making up for lost time with you, Hakuryuu.”

 

“What kind of fae are you?” Kouha interjected, before Hakuryuu could reply. “Do you know where your kind hail from?”

 

A familiar pang of discomfort spiked in Judal’s chest. It may have been phrased differently, but he had gotten the same question many times before. _Who are you_ and _where do you come from_ are the same, no matter what words were used to say them; as was the answer.

 

“No idea.”

 

“I cannot tell either.” Morgiana admitted, breathing in through her mouth this time. “You do not smell like any fae I have met before.”

 

“Whatever he may be, we will know soon enough.” Hakuryuu said. “Now that he has returned to Sidhe, he will come into his heritage, given time.”

 

“As long as I don’t end up looking like a yaksha or something.” Judal muttered.

 

“Mm, but speaking of appearances...”

 

Kouha seemed to materialize before Judal, his slender arms crossed over his chest as he eyed the changeling up and down. Instinctively, Judal leaned back, not entirely comfortable with the fae suddenly in his space or with his eyes roaming all over him. It wasn’t the size of Kouha’s eyes that bothered him, he decided, it was the fact he couldn’t _read_ them. Despite their size, Kouha’s eyes were not particularly _expressive_ , which became unnerving if you looked at him for too long.

 

Judal frowned, almost certain he was going to dislike whatever came next.

 

“We can’t possibly have you wandering around looking like _that_!”

 

Judal was right.

 

He tried not to react defensively, minding Hakuryuu’s warnings about respecting fae authority and how some would try to get a rise out of him.

 

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he demanded.

 

Kouha laughed.

 

“Trust me, that face of yours is more than enough to attract some attention, but if you go around looking like a _mortal_ on top of that, someone’s going to be tempted to try and snatch you!”

 

Judal _really_ didn’t like that.

 

“Kouha,” Hakuryuu said sternly. “Judal is not going to be taken. Nor, might I add, is he a doll for you to dress up--”

 

“Yes, yes, I know!” Kouha interrupted. “But even you must know he has to blend in! Or at least try to. Mind, I have no idea how you mean to keep eyes off him with looks like his, especially once word gets around he’s a changeling and all.”

 

The prince scowled and Judal’s brow furrowed in confusion, which only made Kouha titter.

 

Morgiana took it upon herself to address Judal as the cousins continued their back-and forth, drawing his attention with her measured voice.

 

“He is not insulting you.” she said.

 

“Oh.” Judal wondered if she could read his mind.

 

“You are unusually good looking for a being from the mortal realm.” she continued. “It will draw the attention of a great many fae.”

 

That _sounded_ like a compliment, but Judal wasn’t convinced he should take it as one. Morgiana seemed satisfied to have conveyed it to him, though, and he couldn’t think of a good way to ask if being “unusually good looking for a mortal” should concern him or not.

 

He decided probably, just to be safe.

 

“Oh, let me have my fun, Hakuryuu!”

 

Kouha’s whining seemed less sincere when it was wrapped around a cunning smirk, something Hakuryuu appeared to be all too aware of. He eyed his cousin scrupulously, lips drawn in a thin line.

 

All fae had their eccentricities, and Kouha’s had the delightful misfortune of looking harmless to anyone who didn’t know him. If Judal had been introduced as a mere guest rather than his lover, Hakuryuu would have had every right to be very concerned for his well being around his dainty looking cousin. But Kouha wasn’t one to betray the trust of family, and he seemed relatively fond of Judal.

 

( This, admittedly, only raised more concerns on Hakuryuu’s part. )

 

Torn, the prince glanced at his lover. Judal blinked back at him, clearly more inclined to let him make this decision than make it for himself.

 

In fairness, Kouha was right; Judal was only going to attract unwanted attention if he dressed like a mortal. And, he was pretty sure his lover hadn’t bothered packing any extra clothes when they left. He didn’t mind Judal garnering the attention of people around them either ( _except that he did_ , hissed the possessive chill of his inner voice ) but he hadn’t brought him to Sidhe to be a centerpiece.

 

The lack of secondary garments made Hakuryuu’s choice for him. While he no doubt had a trunk of spare clothing waiting for him in the tent he was sure was being erected for him as they spoke, Kouha was Judal’s best bet for something new to wear. His cousin _did_ have a tendency to travel with seamstresses and enough garments to clothe a kingdom.

 

Hakuryuu sighed and Kouha grinned, seeming to sense his victory.

 

“None of your entourage, cousin.” Hakuryuu instructed firmly. “Not a _hand_ on my Judal, understand?”

 

“Entourage?” Judal questioned warily.

 

Kouha laid a hand over his chest with mock solemnity.

 

“I will look after him myself.”

 

“That’s no more assuring, you know.” Alibaba chuckled. Hakuryuu shot him a glare.

 

With a sigh, Hakuryuu turned to lay a kiss on Judal’s worried mouth. He kneaded the tips of his fingers against his hip as he kissed him, working faint marks against easily-bruised skin. It was a reassurance, in its own way.

 

“I will see you soon.” he murmured between the first kiss and a second.

 

“Mm-hm.”

 

Judal’s hummed response must have conveyed some amount of trepidation, because his lover laid a third kiss against his cheek before leaning to whisper against his ear.

 

“Be sure of yourself, sweetling.” he hushed. “These are your people as much as they are mine.”

 

“Right.” _I belong here._

 

Judal stepped away from Hakuryuu, though not before scratching his dire wolf behind the ears one last time. Kouha led him away into the camp, chirping away like a pleasantly excited lark, his large eyes fixed intently on the changeling. Hakuryuu watched them go and was unsurprised to find himself fighting the strong urge to race after them and take his lover back.

 

This was the first time Judal would be around fae without him, and family or not, it put him on edge.

 

From his left, Alibaba chuckled.

 

“My, how possessive you’ve become, old friend.”

 

“You truly have no idea.” Hakuryuu sighed. “Care to show me to our lodgings?”

 

“But of course!” Alibaba said, mocking a grand bow. Hakuryuu rolled his eyes.

 

The last of the onlookers took their leave as the royals turned to enter the encampment. Alibaba led them on a weaving path Morgiana trailing behind them, deeper into the carefully laid labyrinth of tents. Even temporary, ramshackle abodes like these ones were built to confuse and befuddle the unaware. Hakuryuu had missed the impossible architecture of Sidhe.

 

Custom stated that Hakuryuu’s belongings would be waiting for him along with sleeping accommodations befitting his status, as if he had never left. If pattern held, he was probably settled near to Alibaba close to the center of the camp. It would be good to be sleeping among friends again, though for a moment Hakuryuu felt himself miss the creaky bed and windowless room he’d shared with Judal.

 

“So I take it that even if I ask nicely, you won’t consider letting my borrow _your Judal_ for an evening?” Alibaba teased, as if sensing his old friend’s mind wandering to his lover.

 

The harsh glare he received in response was met with a cheeky grin, which led Hakuryuu to shove him rather than try to continue looking mad. He knew Alibaba was joking, of course, but managed to maintain a faint scowl anyway.

 

“You should not tease him like that...” Morgiana commented, though Alibaba only laughed.

 

“Relax, the both of you! You made yourself as clear as the sun in the sky, Hakuryuu. The changeling is yours.”

 

The golden prince made a show of tossing his hair over his shoulder and sticking his nose in the air, pretending at haughtiness both his companions knew he didn’t possess.

 

“Besides, that one looks like _far_ too much mischief for me.”

 

“Says the one who has never followed a rule in his life, even when his life depended on it.” Morgiana muttered.

 

“He may be _too much_ for you,” Hakuryuu agreed. “But I doubt it has anything to do with mischief.”

 

“He reminds me of Cait Sith.” Alibaba continued, pretending not to have hear either of them. “Good to look at and perhaps to think about at length, but far too unpredictable to comfortably tame.”

 

Hakuryuu chuckled through his nose. The comparison was oddly fitting.

 

It comforted him to know that his friend had even bothered to look past Judal’s exterior appearance. He and Judal had only exchanged a few words, but Alibaba seemed already able to tell that the changeling was more than just a pretty face.

 

“We do not tame felines,” Hakuryuu hummed. “Rather, they seem to tame us.”

 

“How bold.” Morgiana said.

 

“Are you tamed, old friend?”

 

“If I am, then it is only by him.”

 

Alibaba smiled and squeezed Hakuryuu’s shoulder.

 

“Then I’ll congratulate you, Hakuryuu. On finding happiness in the oddest of circumstance!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Well that’s subtle.” Judal muttered.

 

Kouha’s accommodations brashly contrasted with the tents surrounding them. Not only was it taller than the woven shelters, which reached just above the top of Judal’s head, it was also a different material and color. Finely patterned canvas and silk draped over a decadent frame large enough to house at least ten of the regular tents. If not for the glamour around the camp, Judal was pretty sure that it could have been used as a homing beacon.

 

It appeared that its size wasn’t just for grandeur, however. Fae dressed in UnSeelie colors dipped in and out of the tent as they pleased, while three women lounged outside the entrance. One had her eyes wrapped in what, upon longer inspection, appeared to be spider’s web still being woven by a collection of tiny blue arachnids. Another had her hands dressed in the same way, and the third was unnervingly normal, sans a set of unblinking eyes.

 

“Lord Kouha, welcome back!” they cried almost in unison, rising at once to come meet the UnSeelie royal.

 

They fussed over him, grabbing and petting in a way that was beginning to make Judal feel _incredibly_ awkward when Kouha finally waved them off.

 

“I will be with you lovelies in a bit, I promise!” he laughed. “I have something I have to help my dear cousin’s lover with before I can entertain all of you.”

 

They whined and simpered, but Judal didn’t miss the fact that their eyes never strayed far from him. He didn’t like being stared at, he decided. He had never liked it, but in Sidhe it carried an added weight that made him feel far more uncomfortable than he felt like putting up with.

 

Judal narrowed his eyes at the unblinking girl and she flinched back, falling silent.

 

The inside of Kouha’s tent was as grand as the outside. There was actual furniture set up, though no bed to speak of, including a row of trunks and wardrobes along one side. That was an impressive amount of clothes, even for Judal.

 

“Let me see now, you clearly look good in dark colors; I wonder if white would make you look too pale. Or would red be worse? That’s never been Hakuryuu’s color, anyway.”

 

Kouha marched over to the nearest wardrobe, threw it open, and began to sift through the neatly hung articles inside. He would pause occasionally to pull something out and glance at it, grabbing some off their hooks while others would fall back into place, dismissed.

 

Judal stood and watched, not sure what to do with himself. Wasn’t meeting your significant other’s family supposed to be a lot more awkward than this? Then again, maybe this _was_ its own brand of awkwardness.

 

“We will begin with these!” Kouha announced, spinning and shoving a heap of cloth into Judal’s arms. He stood expectantly as the changeling glanced between him and the clothing.

 

“...So do you have somewhere I should change, or--?”

 

“Fae see little difference between skin and cloth.”

 

“Yeah, okay, try that one again in front of Hakuryuu and we’ll see how it works out.”

 

Kouha clicked his tongue, but relented.

 

He pointed Judal to a corner of the tent and showed him how to pull one of the many layers of cloth to drape like a curtain, obscuring him from view. Once the curtain was secured, Judal picked something at random to try on and shed his clothes. It was a gown-like garment that, while lovely and incredibly soft, was going to be wildly impractical to wear. So that was a no.

 

“Just toss what you dislike back over to me!” Kouha called. The gown promptly flew over the curtain.

 

This went on, with Judal trying different garments with only the briefest realization that for some reason, they all felt tailored to fit, then dismissing them for one reason or another. Kouha only complained occasionally about his selections, seeming all too eager to continue going through his vast closet instead. There were some demands to actually see Judal in some of the clothing, but those became a mutual agreement of dissent.

 

Judal had never had a conversation with someone without actually having a conversation. It took him a while to realize, but the words he spoke to Kouha flew from his head as soon as they left his tongue. By the time an hour had passed, he could no more tell someone what they’d talked about than recall how the conversation had begun. All the words were empty, devoid of meaning or feeling, to the point they may as well have been speaking in tongues.

 

It was a farce. A play at sincere politeness that Judal had foolishly allowed himself to become wrapped up in. He scowled around his next sentence, though it came out in a tone that suggested amusement, and bit his tongue. His teeth shivered in his mouth as some charm seemed to snap from his lips.

 

He shrugged off the tunic he’d tried and reached for a long strip of cloth he was pretty sure was supposed to be a top.

 

“...you know,” he said, relieved to hear his voice clearly ringing in his own mind again. “You’re kind of weirdly accepting of some random guy your cousin brought back from another world. After being presumed dead.”

 

The cloth was not a top, but somehow supposed to be for his lower half. Judal wasn’t incredibly sure _how_ he knew this, but had decided to stop wondering after the second shirt he put on made his hands button and adjust the collar without permission.

 

“Like, maybe this is just a human stereotype, but I was kind of expecting more. I don’t know. Disdain? Distrust?”

 

“Threats to your well being if you ever hurt Hakuryuu?”

 

“Yeah, that!”

 

Kouha was silent for a long moment, the rustling of cloth the only sound in the vast tent.

 

“Tell me,” he asked suddenly. “Did the dire wolves like you?”

 

Completely caught off guard, Judal fumbled with the pair of pants he was trying to get out of and somehow got stuck in them. He hopped on one leg, swearing under his breath about _too many fucking straps_ before actually pausing to consider his answer.

 

“Yeah. I think they did, anyway? I mean, I rode one here.”

 

Unseen by Judal, Kouha smiled.

 

“To us fae, mortals are considered far apart even from the lowest of us.” he said, as he parsed through the next open chest. “So yes; I was prepared to disavow you as soon as I laid eyes on you, long before my cousin had introduced us. But then, I saw the wolves. Dire wolves are the beast of the UnSeelie royals-- that wolf, which stayed by your side without question, was raised with Hakuryuu from the time he was born.”

 

He stood and flicked his wrist, observing how the fabric in his hands caught the sparse light peeking in from outside.

 

“His pack are an extension of his own self. Their leader might as well be his twin. In all my seasons, I have never seen that wolf so easily accept another living being besides its master.”

 

Judal looked over his shoulder at the spot beyond the curtain he assumed Kouha was standing.

 

“So, what,” he frowned. “The wolves like me, so _you_ like me?”

 

“I’m not that shallow!” Kouha retorted, indignant. “It told me that you meant no harm to Hakuryuu. And if he is to be believed, you saved his life when none of us were near enough to do so. You seem willing to trust him with your own.”

 

Kouha tossed more clothes over the curtain, which Judal caught. As he turned back to the wardrobe he added;

 

“And so, I’ll open my arms to you! Even if you _were_ raised as a _human_.”

 

Judal tugged on the sleeve of his shirt before rounding on his heel and shoving the curtain aside. Kouha turned back to glance him over, appearing mildly surprised by the glower he was met with.

 

“Y’know, it’s a _good thing_ I was raised as a _human_ ,” Judal said coldly. “Or I would take _offense_ to that.”

 

The changeling cocked his head, face morphing into a pleasant smile matched by a cheery tone.

 

“And it would be awkward for everyone if I held a _grudge_ over that, wouldn’t it?”

 

Kouha blinked, then grinned.

 

“Spoken like a fae.” he said, and it was evident he meant it to be a compliment.

 

It took a third wardrobe and a second chest of clothes for Judal to find something that he decided suited him. The shirt had long, flowing sleeves and split below the collar to hang draped about his torso, ending just above his waist and leaving his stomach exposed. A simple fixture held the two sides of the shirt closed at his throat, and he matched the top with a pair of simple, dark pants which fell comfortably on his hips.

 

Kouha clearly didn’t think the outfit fancy enough, but Judal had always dressed with simple elegance rather than extravagance. He tutted over the materials, even though the shirt felt like something expensive and slinky, and demanded to switch the fixture out for a brooch. Since he’d already rejected the offer of shoes, Judal felt somewhat obligated to give in to that request.

 

The brooch that was selected looked like something Kouha might have stolen from Hakuryuu at some point, made of silver and sapphire. Judal found he liked the weight of it at his neck, and the feeling of his feet on solid ground.

 

( “I’ve had the weirdest urge to just ditch my shoes since I got here.”

 

“Well, do, then! No one’s making you wear them.” )

 

“Are you absolutely _sure_ that’s all you want to take?” Kouha asked for what might have been the seventh time.

 

Judal looked at him in exasperation, purposefully making a show of adjusting the bundle of clothing in his arms.

 

“I’m _sure_ , Kouha.”

 

“If you need something new--”

 

“--I know where to find it.”

 

Kouha sighed dramatically, like he couldn’t quite believe that Judal was settling for only a handful of new clothes.

 

“Well, fine then. Let me show you to your tent-” he paused at the tent’s entrance, where the pair were greeted by Hakuryuu’s dire wolf sitting patiently outside.

 

The wolf blinked at Kouha without interest, but immediately cocked his head when Judal came into view. He huffed, stood and shook himself, then pawed towards the changeling and bumped him with his nose.

 

“Here to show me where Hakuryuu is?” Judal asked the wolf, who snapped his jaws in response. “Well, lead the way!”

 

Kouha waved the wolf and changeling off as they took their leave, disappearing among the stunted tents in search of their prince. He watched them go with his arms crossed, too-large irises as unreadable as ever.

 

“What a truly odd creature you’ve brought home, cousin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Cait Sith** is a faerie of Celtic origin, who appears as a large black cat with a white spot on its chest. It is one of my favorite fae of all time, and if one has the chance to read the wiki article, I highly recommend it.


	35. Passion i.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Twitter now! Please come follow me **@x_noctyrne** . I'll be posting updates about Serendipity, some snippets from the chapters I'm writing, art I'm working on, and general commentary from my daily life. Feel free to come chat with me too! I'm always happy to talk about fic, Magi, or anything else!

Unlike his cousin’s extravagant shelter, Hakuryuu’s tent was practical, but elegant. It had been crafted from a circle of thin trees, which bowed inwards to create a domed roof above their trunks. Indigo leaves spilled in blankets down the sides, both concealing and insulating the inside. Silver flowers adorned the circumference of the roof and trailed down the front in parallel lines to indicate where the leaves could be brushed aside for entry.

 

Though lacking any lavish embellishment, the sparseness of the tent’s inside was comfortable. Warm blue light glowed from bulbous fruits hanging from the ceiling, giving the space an overlying sense of serenity. There was a worn trunk for clothing and nearby a full-body dress form on which Hakuryuu’s armor now rested. The prince himself stood beside a modest table, framed by two slight chairs, leafing through a stack of curling papers covered in intricate writing.

 

He looked up when Judal entered, meaning to cast him a passing gaze only to find his eyes locked on his lover. All interest in the papers he had been engrossed in was immediately lost.

 

Judal spun playfully to show off his new attire and bare feet, drawing Hakuryuu’s eyes along the graceful curve of his body. Should he damn his cousin’s bewitched clothing, ever tailored to whichever wearer chose it, or bless it? He had seen his lover in less, and in clothing that clung far tighter to his thin body, yet something in the way the fabric draped around his sharp edges and soft curves brought wicked thoughts to the prince’s mind.

 

“So?” Judal queried coyly. “Do you like them?”

 

Hakuryuu set the stack of papers aside without taking his eyes off his lover. In some ways, he found himself all but driven mad each time Judal enraptured him anew. He was accustomed to beauty and to intrigue, but moreso to how the allure of it wore off as time went on. Yet, even now a simple change in wardrobe demanded his fullest attention. Judal need only _stand there_ and he was entranced.

 

He strode to his lover with the measured steps of a prowling predator, and Judal never flinched. The ghost of amusement played in his eyes and his lips pulled into a smirk that spoke of just the kind of mischief Alibaba had mentioned.

 

“I do.” Hakuryuu replied, but only once his hands had found their way to Judal’s hips. “They suit you.”

 

With skin beneath his fingertips, how could he be expected to resist? Judal breathed out in a rush as Hakuryuu’s palms slid up along his sides, marveling at the skin now open for him to touch unhindered.

 

“What were you reading?” Judal asked as he reached for Hakuryuu’s shoulders so he could rest his arms about his neck.

 

“A report,” Hakuryuu said absently. “Of what’s gone on in my absence.”

 

With all the skin bare before him, what cloth did see fit to cover his lover should have felt like a flimsy barrier. And yet, as his fingertips delved under the first opaque folds, his stomach tightened with anticipation. So little stood between him and Judal’s naked chest that he could already see him undressed in his arms.

 

“Anything worth mentioning?”

 

“Now?” Hakuryuu chuckled through his nose. “Absolutely not.”

 

Judal’s knowing smirk was smothered under a heated kiss that demanded he part his lips and hold tighter to his prince. Nimble fingers tangled into Hakuryuu’s hair, and in response he dragged his hands down his lover’s sides again. How distracting these trousers were going to be, settled _just so_ on Judal’s hips. Almost worse than the revealing shirt.

 

Hakuryuu pulled Judal closer and broke their kiss, only to trail his mouth along the sharp curve of his jaw. Sharp teeth dragged red across pale skin, though the marks faded as swiftly as they were made. Judal sighed and lolled his head to the side, offering his neck to his lover’s mouth.

 

“I don’t think your cousin likes me.” he commented airily, then gasped when Hakuryuu bit at his skin.

 

This was not the line of conversation Hakuryuu wished to be following, in fact, he would rather not follow any sort of conversation at all. He had shelved his possessive urges for the first time since becoming Judal’s lover, and quieted the cold beast in his ribcage. It wanted to reassert its claim on the changeling and it didn’t like being interrupted.

 

Hakuryuu forced himself to divorce from the subtle influence of his instincts and pulled away to look into his lover’s eyes.

 

“Believe me, sweetling, if he did not like you you would be _very_ aware of it.” he assured. “As would I.”

 

Judal drew the corner of his mouth between his teeth, then quickly released it, but not before Hakuryuu’s eyes had narrowed.

 

“Did he say something to you?”

 

“Sort of.” Judal shrugged. “I just forgot what it was like, y’know?”

 

Hakuryuu blinked, waiting for the elaboration.

 

“Being the weird one.” Judal clarified with a sigh. “Like, I guess it never really _stopped_ back in the human world but I got over it. I claimed it, I guess. Made a point to just put it aside. So it’s weird to be, I don’t know...”

 

Another vague shrug. At this point, Judal’s fingers had begun to make a mess of Hakuryuu’s hair, though the prince deigned not to stop him.

 

“Uncomfortable?” he supplied.

 

“Yeah! But I’m not actually, cause I’m used to this, but I am, so it’s like-- Like _being uncomfortable_ is making me uncomfortable?”

 

Judal’s brow creased with frustration, mouth twisted into an irritated pout that Hakuryuu couldn’t help but find adorable.

 

He wasn’t sure how to address what Judal was feeling because he didn’t understand it. He was no changeling, he had never been in the position of being displaced regardless of what world he was in or people he surrounded himself with. For Judal, who had built his confidence from nothing and held himself to a certain standard of self-worth, self-doubt must be infuriating.

 

The only thing he could do was try to assuage some of it and let his lover figure out the rest.

 

Hakuryuu brushed Judal’s bangs back and took a moment to look at his rounded ear as he tucked his hair behind it. Only a mortal shell stood between who his lover was and who he could be, and yet that shell…

 

“Look at you,” Hakuryuu murmured. “Beautiful, too beautiful to be a mortal and yet that is just the skin you wear. You match tongues with fae tens of times your age-- with _Kouha_ , who anyone could tell you is not an easy thing to do.”

 

Hakuryuu caught his lover’s chin and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

 

“You speak, without hesitation, to royalty. No regard for consequence, no concern for disrespect, completely confident in the idea that you _belong_ among us.”

 

He kissed him again, this time with force that made Judal grip his shoulders in surprise. The kiss dragged down his chin, to his throat, so Hakuryuu’s next words were whispered against his pulse;

 

“And you _do_.”

 

Hakuryuu lowered himself, first to one knee, then down onto the other, and cast a look up at Judal. He watched familiar heat swim into his lover’s eyes as he pressed his mouth against his abdomen. The first brush of his mouth was soft, the second warm and wet as he parted his lips and the third made Judal’s belly jump as he sucked at his skin.

 

“Sweetling,” he breathed against the mark he’d left on Judal’s stomach. “You are a puzzle. A riddle that my people have not encountered before.”

 

Judal sank his fingers back into Hakuryuu’s hair, holding loose locks back from his face. When Hakuryuu looked up at him, a flush had begun to rise on his cheeks.

 

“They will stare, and whisper, and I am very sure they will talk. But really, sweetling, they are all desperate to be the ones to solve you first.”

 

“Good luck with that!” Judal laughed breathily. “Don’t think I’ve actually solved myself yet.”

 

Hakuryuu could have gone on praising his lover, but Judal’s expression was no longer one of frustration. Desire made itself prominent in the scarlet of his eyes and the way his fingers twisted in the prince’s hair. He radiated the buzz of nigh-desperate tension that Hakuryuu had come to associate with Judal’s building need. He was fractious and impatient, always begging for relief without wanting it to end.

 

The marks on Judal’s belly would fade by morning, but the one Hakuryuu began to worry above his left hip wasn’t going to be so quick to disappear. While his sweetling gasped and sighed, Hakuryuu tugged at the loose fabric around his thighs until it gave. By the time he released his skin with a wet _pop_ , Judal was hard for him.

 

“ _Hakuryuu_ \--” he whined, only to taper off into a moan of satisfaction as the prince licked a sloppy stripe along the length of his cock.

 

With only that as warning, Hakuryuu licked his chops and then, in one elegant motion, swallowed his lover down. Judal loosed a delighted cry, gripping hard at his shoulder with one hand and his hair with the other. Hakuryuu’s hands rested lightly on his hips, doing little to restrain his lover when he rocked his hips forward, though there was no deeper he could plunge down the prince’s throat.

 

Judal’s fingers flexed in his hair as he slowly pulled back, like he was considering holding his lover in place. Would he? The idea of Judal fucking into his mouth was more appealing than the prince cared to admit. He sucked the head of his lover’s prick and rolled his tongue against the slit, only for Judal to moan his name like it was a compliment.

 

His name always sounded so glorious on Judal’s tongue when he was in the throes of passion, like something obscene and revered at the same time.

 

Hakuryuu swallowed when Judal hit the back of his throat again, pulled back, then groaned when his lover rocked forward. The moan must have felt good, because Judal thrust forward again with slightly more force. The prince relaxed his jaw obligingly and his lover took the hint, rocking into his mouth a third time with a high moan.

 

“Fu—u _ck_ -!” Judal gasped as the prince hummed his satisfaction.

 

Hakuryuu reached between his legs to adjust the growing bulge in his pants. It was bordering on uncomfortable, enough to be a distraction and make him pull away. Judal made a noise to indicate he didn’t approve.

 

“Lie down.” Hakuryuu instructed as he licked his lips. The taste of his lover lingered, heady and addictive on his tongue.

 

Judal opened his mouth to ask _where_ , only to catch sight of a thick bed of moss sprouting from the earth which certainly hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.

 

“...should I be offended that you had enough focus to do magic while sucking my dick?”

 

Hakuryuu snorted.

 

“You should be impressed. Now _lie down_.”

 

Judal complied, stepping out of his pants and tossing aside his new shirt carelessly in favor of lying naked on the fresh moss. Hakuryuu stripped as well, which could have been done slower and with more grace, but he considered his lover thoroughly seduced for the night. He was more interested in crawling over him and catching his open mouth in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and feisty teeth, while he ground their hips together.

 

One of Judal’s legs hooked over his waist and Hakuryuu took the chance to roll them onto their sides. In moments, they were tangled together, arms curled under and over each other and legs bent so that they could rock together in unison. Hakuryuu’s flesh hand descended between them to grasp their weeping cocks, palming slow strokes in contrast to their fervent bucking.

 

He felt his lover tense, gasps becoming pants as the edge rushed to meet him. Their kiss broke and Hakuryuu pressed his mouth into the curve of his lover’s neck and shoulder where he sank his teeth and held, bruising a harsh mark into his delicate flesh. Judal keened for him, arching his whole body as he plummeted into euphoria. The end was not far behind for Hakuryuu, who swore against Judal’s skin as he came.

 

They lay there, sticky and dazed as the high settled onto them, both well aware it was probably only the first of the night. Judal rolled onto his back, chest heaving for a moment as he drank deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Hakuryuu watched him through lidded eyes and chose to reach over once his breathing had steadied, stroking sweaty bangs back from his forehead.

 

“Beautiful...” he hummed.


	36. Chapter 26

The shrill cry of a horn broke the morning stillness, jolting both Judal and Hakuryuu awake like they’d just been slapped in the face. Hakuryuu managed to jerk free of slumber with some grace, probably used to this kind of rude awakening. Judal, however, whined groggily.

 

“Wha’ th’ hell is _that_?”

 

“Speak!” Hakuryuu barked at the front of the tent, ignoring the question.

 

The blaring stopped and was replaced by the clipped voice of an unknown man.

 

“King Sinbad has requested the presence of the Prince of UnSeelie! I am to escort you to him as early as is convenient to you, Prince Hakuryuu!”

 

Hakuryuu hissed through his teeth, running one hand through his sleep tousled hair.

 

“Of course he has.” he grumbled. “Come on Judal, time to wake up.”

 

Breakfast was waiting for them on the tent’s singular table. While Judal fought to rouse himself from his groggy daze, Hakuryuu poured himself a glass of nectar from a small pitcher and downed it like a shot. He grimaced, set his glass down, and sat down to their simple meal.

 

They ate quietly, but it was a familiar and pleasant silence. The bread still steamed when torn open, and the butter and honey melted into the soft inside to make a gooey, comforting mess. What space was left in their bellies was filled with tart yellow berries and salted strips of meat. Judal found the nectar to be incredibly sour and nursed his glass, only to find himself fully awake and energized by the end of it.

 

With their meal done, they set about dressing and making themselves presentable. Hakuryuu combed his hair in a few quick, fluid motions and twirled it up into a dignified bun. He then tossed the comb to Judal, who neatened and plaited his own hair while his lover dressed. By the time he was done with his hair, Hakuryuu had begun to don his armor, and with Judal’s simpler attire they ended up dressed at about the same time.

 

“Here,” Hakuryuu said after glancing Judal over. He reached for the tail of his braid and held it between wooden fingers, from which slim shoots began to sprout.

 

The vines tangled themselves elegantly into Judal’s braid, bursting with a single pale blossom at the nape of his neck. He reached up to run his fingers along the delicate petals.

 

“Is this for me, or for you?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

They shared a brief smile inlaid with words that went without saying, then stepped out of the tent.

 

Just outside there stood a tall fae with a sharp nose and stern, dark eyes. Though he already stood at attention, he managed to pull himself even straighter at the sight of Hakuryuu.

 

“Prince Hakuryuu--” he began, only to falter when his eyes landed on Judal.

 

For a bare moment, something akin to disgust twisted the man’s face. The expression could not have lasted longer than the time it took to blink, but Judal found himself acutely aware of it. How his brows furrowed, mouth curved into a sneer, eyes hardened and cold. As if Judal were something foul enough to repulse him with merely a glance.

 

“With all due respect, my king requests the presence of _the Prince_.”

 

Hakuryuu arched his brows. His expression betrayed nothing, whether he had seen the soldier’s shift in visage or not, and his voice was level when he spoke.

 

“I do not think king Sinbad unkind enough to reject my lover’s presence at his table. Certainly not unwise enough.”

 

The soldier’s chest visibly swelled as he inhaled sharply through his nose, puffing himself up like an intimidated amphibian. Hakuryuu continued to regard him with cool indifference.

 

“With all due respect, Prince Hakuryuu,” the man said, words coming out in short, sharp bursts. “King Sinbad should never be forced to share the table with a-- a-- _mortal_!”

 

Judal blinked, registered the insult, and felt something cold and brittle inside him snap. An untapped wellspring of anger burst inside his ribs and filled his chest with hot, suffocating _rage_ that he didn’t know what to do with. He wanted it out, he decided, and the second he thought it, it shot out of him like a physical force.

 

It _was_. It projected from him in an invisible, yet tangible mass that slammed into the soldier, shocking a pained cry as he crumpled under the punishing force of it. He fell to his knees, wheezing and clutching at his abdomen like he’d been struck.

 

Everything happened in a split second, no longer than it took Judal to blink. In fact it was so fast that it took longer for him to process what had transpired than for him to realize he’d been insulted.

 

Insulted? Was being mortal an insult now?

 

( _Yes._ hissed something cold inside him. Judal agreed. )

 

“I would lower yourself further, if I were you.” Hakuryuu said coolly. The soldier faltered, half bowed but clearly desperate to regain his footing. “If you were not under king Sinbad’s hand, I would be taking your _vile tongue_ from your _mouth_ for daring to speak to my Judal that way. Perhaps your king will be gracious enough to give me the pleasure.”

 

The once prideful man cowered as Hakuryuu strode past him, Judal pointedly at his side.

 

“We won’t be needing an escort.” he tossed airly over his shoulder, leaving the man to grovel in the grass.

 

So it seemed like yesterday had been something of a false start.

 

As they strode purposefully through the camp, Judal’s skin couldn’t help but to crawl under the eyes that followed them. The _anger_ from before may be gone, but something still prickled against his nerves, an itch under the dermal layer he was incapable of scratching.

 

Sans a few sparks of magic, Judal was for all intents and purposes still _a mortal_. Though Hakuryuu’s immediate friends and family had seemed accepting, it seemed their judgment was shared by very few. So long as he wore this skin over his true self, all he was going to be seen as was human.

 

Stars but being looked down on was _maddening_. Worse, not being able to do anything about it. Losing this outer shell was going to take time, and no one seemed to know how much. Until then, he could only wait.

 

Judal had never been a patient person.

 

If Hakuryuu noticed his festering agitation, he made no indication of it. The prince walked with the purpose and pride of royalty, following a path through the camp that led them to a large tent made of sheer, white silk. Guards were posted on either side of the entrance, mingling more than standing guard. On the left, men and women dressed in warm colors that reminded one of spring, and on the other dressed in cool, dark shades of a snowstorm. Seelie and UnSeelie, Judal assumed.

 

They bowed when Hakuryuu passed and remained so as Judal crossed the threshold at his heels. A tent offered little in the way of a barrier, but he could _feel_ the magic in it. Someone had layered thin veils of magic atop the glossy silk, like lace strewn over a tabletop.

 

The tent was already occupied by a smattering of fae, all of whom looked to Hakuryuu when he entered. Some bowed, others tore themselves from previous conversation to greet the prince, and others lingered in the shadows to observe. Hakuryuu met each of them with practiced cordialness, which bled into cool calmness when he introduced Judal. Some of the fae barely glanced at him, while others stared openly, but none had the gall to say anything their eyes betrayed.

 

Hakuryuu grew swiftly sick of the quick exits from conversation, thinly veiling distaste. If any of the fae so eager to clamor for his attention bothered to give Judal a second glance they would notice how magic seeped from him like steam from fissures in the earth. He was far more than a pretty mortal, eyes alone could see that.

 

“So he returns!” laughed a voice dripping in sarcasm. “ _Lovely_ little plaything and all.”

 

It was like the stars were testing his patience to see how much self-control he had left after his time in the mortal realm. First the soldier, and now _this_ man.

 

Hakuryuu’s teeth ground subtly.

 

“Olba.” he bit out.

 

Olba cocked his chin up in reply. He was a young man, his pointed ears jutting out rather than up, with wild hair braided tight against the right side of his head. Judal didn’t think he looked very impressive; he had the air of a man posturing to appear above his station, which took balls considering he seemed to be vying for a cock fight with the UnSeelie Prince himself.

 

“Do tell me _Prince_ ,” Olba drawled as he sauntered up to them. “Was the halfling part of the plan, or was he just a pleasant bonus to your respite, while _we_ carried the weight of your crusade?”

 

The air around Hakuryuu became very cold, very quickly.

 

He had greeted at least five different people by that point, none of whom had been any kinder about Judal, whether they’d been verbal about it or not. Maybe it was a coincidence, and this just happened to be his breaking point, but this felt like _history_. Black, angry history that one or both of the men involved had tried to scrub out.

 

Not hard enough, apparently.

 

And being insulted was getting _really_ old.

 

“I’m a changeling, thanks.” Judal snapped, before Hakuryuu could reply. “And you are? Besides very poorly dressed.”

 

Olba jerked slightly, like he’d been slapped. He clearly hadn’t expected the prince’s “plaything” to address him, let alone fire off an insult. Shock quickly became anger, but before he could open his mouth a familiar figure appeared over his shoulder.

 

“Do us both a favor and _don’t_ , Olba.” Alibaba sighed. “Judal’s already half-crippled one person today, and sun knows I don’t need Hakuryuu all riled up before the meeting even starts.”

 

His tone was warm, but held a lick of fire with each flick of his tongue. Judal could almost see the flames behind his lips. Alibaba held himself openly and smiled with real kindness, but the hearth was lovely too, until you were stupid enough to put your hand in it.

 

Olba ducked his head.

 

“My apologies, my prince, I--”

 

Alibaba waved a hand.

 

“Go take your position, we can talk about it later.” he smiled brightly. “Glad you could make it, Judal.”

 

He nodded to Hakuryuu, then stepped away to take his seat at the wide table in the middle of the tent. The few fae left mingling began to take their places as well, settling in an order that seemed predetermined without a word having been said. The head of the table was left empty. Alibaba settled to one side of the remaining seat, beside a sharp eyed redhead, while Hakuryuu sat opposite him.

 

Judal took the seat to Hakuryuu’s left. He tried not to bristle visibly when several fae stared, clearly waiting for the newcomer to be corrected. When he wasn’t, an inaudible murmur seemed to circle the table. Moments later, Kouha appeared and took the open seat beside Judal, insulating him between two UnSeelie royals. The inaudible murmur circled again, accompanied by furtive looks.

 

Though he didn’t understand it, there was a message being sent here. If he had to take a wild guess, it wasn’t common for strangers to be placed on the same level as royalty. And definitely not “mortal” ones.

 

Suddenly, a man appeared at the head of the table. It was entirely possible he had been there the whole time, though just as likely that he had only just walked in. He stood there now, either way, surveying the table with a benign expression.

 

“I see I am once again late to my own meeting!” he announced. “What a terrible habit. Ja’far, you must remind me to break it.”

 

At his shoulder, Ja’far rolled his eyes.

 

“I _have_ , king Sinbad.”

 

In unison the table rose to their feet before the king. Each fae trained their eyes pointedly apart from the king’s own, standing with straight backs and unreadable expressions. Only Hakuryuu stood slowly from his seat and looked at the man with the respectful contemplation of an equal.

 

“I was not expecting to see you so soon after my return, king Sinbad.” Hakuryuu said. “Though it is good to know there has been a leader in my absence.”

 

“As soon as I heard that you were back among us I made for the camp.” Sinbad grinned. “They say you come back to us with your loss undone and a changeling at your side. Have I heard correctly?”

 

Hakuryuu’s mouth quirked at one corner as he shifted his weight so the king might see Judal beside him. He placed his wooden hand against the small of his lover’s back, possessive yet encouraging.

 

“Allow me to introduce my lover, king Sinbad. Without him at my side, I have little doubt that I would have been far less fortunate while in the world of men. And he is, as you have said, a changeling.”

 

The hand on Judal’s back flexed slightly, prompting him to speak.

 

“I’m Judal.” He bowed his head. “It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”

 

He was suddenly very glad that Hakuryuu had spent a lazy Wednesday grilling him on how to address and introduce oneself to fae royalty.

 

Sinbad grinned broadly, seemingly delighted by the introduction.

 

The king extended his hand and, reflexively, Judal rested his own in his upturned palm. Judal immediately had to fight the urge to yank his hand away again when Sinbad raised his knuckles to his mouth and fluttered a kiss over his skin. Hakuryuu’s fingers were pushed hard into the bare skin of his back, and would likely leave marks in their wake, which was just about the only reason he didn’t physically recoil.

 

Somehow, he lasted the thirty seconds it took for Sinbad to raise, kiss, and release his hand without making a face or squirming away. That was an accomplishment, as far as he was concerned.

 

“The pleasure is mine, Judal.” Sinbad hummed. “I appreciate the care you have put into returning the Prince to us. And, regarding that...”

 

Sinbad motioned with his hand and the gathered fae all settled back into their seats. Hakuryuu gripped Judal’s hand briefly, as if wanting to imprint the sensation of his skin over the king’s kiss. He pulled away after a moment, but not before Judal had squeezed his fingers affectionately.

 

“I wish I could give you the time to reacquaint yourself with the rebellion, Hakuryuu, but I am afraid time is of the essence.” Sinbad said. “There is much to be done, and it will not be long before the Queen learns that you are very much alive and once more within the bounds of Sidhe.”

 

“If she does not know already.” Kouha interjected.

 

A scowl passed around the table that even Judal shared in.

 

“We must do what we can in the time we have.” the king agreed. “There is no predicting what she will do once she becomes aware of us again.”

 

“There was talk of a more secure stronghold to base ourselves from, before my leaving. I assume the locations discussed then have been compromised?”

 

“Almost entirely, Prince Hakuryuu. We deemed it best to pursue none of them.” said the redhead beside Alibaba. He had an incredibly calm voice, with an almost hypnotic lull to it.

 

“There is, however, a place.” said Ja’far. “At the moment it is occupied by rather unpleasant intruders, so we are doing our best to quickly cleanse and secure it to ensure the safety of our people. Preparations should be completed soon.”

 

Sinbad nodded.

 

“That is good to hear. The sooner we can begin to ward ourselves against scrying and location magic, the better. The wards around this camp will hold under only so much scrutiny.”

 

“And what is to be done in the meantime?” someone from down the table asked.

 

“Nothing, of course!” snapped a woman. “It would be foolish to reveal ourselves with any grand schemes now! Not to mention dangerous to Lord Kouha and Prince Hakuryuu.”

 

Hakuryuu scoffed under his breath.

 

“So we sit on our hands until we have a safe hole to hide away in? I did not begin this venture in the pursuit of idleness.”

 

“There’s some way to be proactive, right?”

 

Judal assumed he had been ignored, since conversation continued without anyone acknowledging that he’d spoken, until Alibaba caught his eye. The golden prince smiled, then said;

 

“Come on, Sinbad, we all know you’ve got something up your sleeve. Out with it, king, what have you been plotting?”

 

A hush fell over the table’s occupants as all attention returned to the king. Sinbad’s mouth was smiling but his eyes danced with something vibrant and unruly, as though something wild lurked just beyond his composed exterior. He regarded the table for a moment, eyeing them each in turn and lingering on some.

 

“Considering the ramifications, were our cause to fail, I think it best that we treat this as if the courts were truly at each other’s throats once more. And with that being said, I believe our next step ought to be bridging contact with one of the _faerie_.”

 

There was an immediate uproar. Judal looked wildly between the table’s occupants, the sudden shift in atmosphere completely lost on him. Each fae wore a different expression; a few terrified, some almost angry, Kouha, chattering a mile a minute. The air was electric with confusion and, unmistakably, _fear_.

 

Hakuryuu had leaned forward in his seat, elbow on the tabletop and hand covering his mouth. Judal could tell that his visage went unchanged, but his eyes… Something in them was different. The white sparks that came and went danced about his irises in a snowlike flurry, and the air around him had begun to chill. A faint tremor passed down his pointed ears.

 

He seemed _excited_.

 

“You seem to have one in mind, king Sinbad. Is it--”

 

“Forget who it is!” Kouha interjected. “I thought it was you who proposed we play the _long game_?! Acquiring a faerie at this stage-- If we were to be rejected-!”

 

“I don’t mean to question you, but I think Kouha is right.” Alibaba agreed, brow knitted with worry. “Unless you’ve already got _that guy_ agreeing...”

 

Ja’far shook his head with a faint look of frustration.

 

“No. We managed to contact him, but he declined the advance.”

 

“However,” Sinbad said. “He did point us in the direction of one of his kin he thought might be willing to come to our aid, given the right set of circumstance.”

 

“What will it take?”

 

“ _Hakuryuu_!” hissed Kouha. “Be reasonable, you cannot be thinking of going along with this!”

 

“And why not?”

 

The tone of Hakuryuu’s voice shifted with volume. When he spoke, it was with the crisp clarity of a winter morning, which seemed to command the attention of every fae present. Perhaps even moreso than Sinbad’s had.

 

“Whatever my mother has planned,” he went on. “It is something entirely unknown, and for that reason alone we should all be _very_ afraid. She has at her disposal the entirety of the UnSeelie army, as well as the power of her vassals, charges, and whatever else lurks in her shadow. _We are not prepared._ We cannot even begin to match her, as we are now.”

 

Sinbad nodded solemnly in agreement, as did a few of the table’s occupants.

 

“A faerie will put us at enough of an advantage to allow us some freedom to take risks.” he said “They will be a complete unknown, and strong enough to account for whatever manpower we lack. Barring your mother sending all of UnSeelie after us, that is.”

 

“I would not put it past her, but let us assume for now that she will not.”

 

“Well is sounds ludicrous to me.” Alibaba announced, dropping his chin into his palm. “But if Hakuryuu wants to go for it, I guess I’m in too.”

 

Hakuryuu offered his friend a grateful look, which was answered with a bemused grin. Alibaba liked to avoid trouble where he could, but it always seemed to find him anyway. Or perhaps, as Hakuryuu had long suspected, he didn’t really avoid it at all, merely pretended to.

 

“Then it is decided.”

 

Ja’far stepped forward and pulled from his sleeve a small bottle filled with sand, which he uncorked and tipped over the table. As the sand fell into a pile, it began to shape itself into the form of a detailed mountain peak, then the land at its base.

 

“This is the mountain the faerie calls home. It is a few days journey from here, but from what I have been told they live atop it rather than _on_ the mountain. The climb will be a journey in itself.”

 

“We can cut the time by riding continuously until we reach the mountain.” Hakuryuu mused, already beginning to chart a course in his mind. “The ascent concerns me somewhat, I do not think it wise to go alone.”

 

“I agree.” Sinbad nodded. “For that reason, I would like to offer two of my generals to accompany you. Spartos hails from a clan of mountain dwellers, and Pisti’s affinity for beasts is unparalleled. I think them uniquely suited to this venture.”

 

The redhead who had spoken earlier inclined his head to Hakuryuu, as did a petite blond several seats down who had gone almost unnoticed due to her size.

 

“I don’t think king Sinbad needs to offer me.” Alibaba teased from across the table. “You know I’ll just follow you even if you tell me not to, Hakuryuu.”

 

“I would be insulted if you did not, old friend.”

 

“And what of Judal?” Sinbad asked as he cast his gaze fully on the changeling.

 

All attention turned to Judal, who sat silent for an awkward moment before realizing they were all waiting for him to respond. After being ignored earlier, he’d just assumed he wasn’t supposed to speak. ( It wasn’t like he could follow the conversation anyhow. )

 

“I mean,” he said. “I didn’t come here to sit around in a camp.”

 

Several mutters of disapproval were interrupted by Alibaba announcing;  


“I think he should come!”

 

Hakuryuu quirked a brow at him, wordlessly requesting he elaborate. Alibaba grinned.

 

“Come on, out of everyone in Sidhe, I think a faerie is probably among the most likely to know things about changelings no one else does! Since Judal has no idea where he came from or how long it’s going to be until he comes into himself, it would be a good opportunity.”

 

At the mention of learning things about himself, Judal visibly perked up. He didn’t quite understand the implications of what a _faerie_ was, or how it was different from any other fae, but he got the impression it was important. If it was someone who could help him understand his situation better, he was even more eager to accompany Hakuryuu.

 

“I believe he is right.” Spartos said. “Even if our invitation is declined, they may be willing to at least answer a few questions. It would be wise to consider bringing a gift of some kind, in that case.”

 

“In _any_ case. I doubt the faerie will even entertain you without some kind of tribute.” Kouha huffed.

 

He seemed to be among the few who still looked uncomfortable with this plan of action. There was no point in arguing further, the UnSeelie Prince had already decided to go along with it and it had been proposed by a king, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

 

A look passed between the cousins that went unread by any of the observers. As family, Kouha and Hakuryuu had their own way of communicating both with and without words, and though no conclusion seemed to be reached in that split second, Kouha’s shoulders relaxed.

 

“We leave tomorrow at dawn.” Hakuryuu declared. “Be prepared by then.”

 

“You are dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some of you may have noticed, the update schedule in the summary has changed. For the time being updates will be every two weeks on an unscheduled day, hopefully around Monday or Tuesday. I'm hoping this will allow me to better play catch-up, as well as help me manage my time a little easier. I apologize for the inconsistency, hopefully once my RL situation calms down a bit we can get back to weekly updates.


	37. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lovely fanart from one of my readers on FFnet! This one is [Hakuryuu looking absolutely stunning, with the remnants of the White Lady](https://claywind.deviantart.com/art/Prince-Hakuryuu-Ren-724906671?ga_submit_new=10%3A1515629240).

Dawn’s light cast long shadows as it seeped over the treetops and across the fading night sky, making an austere image of the figures gathering at the edge of the camp. Alibaba arrived first, awake with the sun, with Morgiana not far behind him. They stood sharing a brief breakfast of fruit they tore open with their fingers as first Pisti, then Spartos arrived, Judal and Hakuryuu between them.

 

Unlike his Seelie counterpart, Hakuryuu was not nearly as jubilated to be up with the sun. Though not precisely a scowl, his expression was one tinged with displeasure, and when he spoke his voice was brisk and sharp around the edges with stinging irritation. No one seemed at all offended by it. In fact, Alibaba seemed almost amused.

 

Judal yawned and only made a vague attempt to cover it with his hand. He was barely awake and trying not to sag under the weight of the traveling cloak Hakuryuu had bundled him up into. It was warm and comforting, and it wasn’t doing much to dissuade his mind from the idea of more sleep.

 

He stood there blearily as Hakuryuu instructed their companions on… something. _Probably_ something important, but since he was mostly there to ride along and look pretty, he figured he didn’t really need to pay attention. If it was imperative he know, Hakuryuu would look him in the eye and tell him, since that was about the only way to totally guarantee his attention.

 

By the time the sun had illuminated the trees and knoll beyond them, the party was already mounted and setting out in the direction of the faerie’s alleged home. Judal’s hands tangled in warm, auburn fur as the cool morning air splashed against him, washing away the last of his drowsiness. He rode upon one of Hakuryuu’s dire wolves, a sleek female who was more than capable of keeping pace with Hakuryuu’s own mount, but chose to keep just behind his shoulder.

 

The other four all rode beasts of varying sizes and shapes, creating quite the wandering menagerie. Pisti’s petite form was almost lost amidst her mount’s copious feathers, which looked invitingly soft, even if Judal couldn’t quite tell what creature was underneath them. Alibaba loped alongside Hakuryuu on the back of a fierce looking grphyon with the head of a falcon and the sleek body of a lion, which the dire wolves seemed familiar with. Morgiana favored a large feline of some kind, though the large horns protruding from its brow made the term _feline_ questionable.

 

Spartos was riding on the back of what appeared to be a perfectly normal, pale horse. Judal decided that this was completely unnerving on the basis that the horse’s presence in Sidhe implied that horses were not, in fact, a naturally occurring part of the mortal world.

 

They rode in relative silence, tossing the odd comment back and forth between themselves before they quieted again. Time in Sidhe didn’t pass as it had in the mortal realm, it was difficult to tell how many hours had gone by, if any had at all. The sun rose higher into the sky, but for all Judal knew they could have been riding for more than a day. However he found that he wasn’t hungry, or otherwise uncomfortable, and supposed it didn’t really matter.

 

Then he supposed that that may be the key to dealing with time in this realm; accepting that it just didn’t really matter.

 

When the camp was long behind them and the plain was beginning to amass far steeper hills than before, they took a sharp turn into the woodland. The trees were far enough apart to create natural pathways, none of which they were led to follow. Instead, they broke stride from a gallop to a steady trot as Hakuryuu relinquished the lead to Morgiana.

 

Since their pace was already slowed, they took the chance to eat something and make idle conversation. Nothing much was being said between bites of bread, cheese, and fruit, but the jaunty melody of voices was comforting. Judal licked his fingers clean after devouring his food, then waited for a lull before he spoke.

 

“Alright so, pretend I was raised in another world for a minute,” he said, speaking to the group at large. “And that I totally don’t get what why a faerie is a big deal. Why’s a faerie a big deal?”

 

Pisti laughed brightly, as if he had just said something particularly funny.

 

“How much has Prince Hakuryuu taught you about Sidhe?” asked Spartos, affixing him with his level gaze.

 

“I taught him about the courts and Queens,” Hakuryuu supplied. “Some about the Wildlands. I delved into some history, but the faerie never came up in conversation.”

 

He looked to Judal and said, without accusation; “You could have asked me this last night.”

 

Judal shrugged.

 

“I wasn’t thinking about it.”

 

Another one of Pisti’s delighted laughs bounced jauntily through the air.

 

“ _Faerie_ are where _fae_ come from!” she tittered, which explained a grand total of absolutely nothing.

 

Spartos gracefully caught the end of her lackluster explanation and spun it into his own, as if he were used to expanding upon her less than clear thoughts.

 

“Faerie are the oldest known beings to have existed in Sidhe.” he said. “In the Beginning, there were only faerie, and from them came all other beings that now thrive in this realm. Either they were born of faerie blood, or created by faerie magic. They are the progenitors of all of us.”

 

“If you go back far enough, everyone’s got a faerie somewhere in their bloodline, even if it’s all the way back at the beginning.” Alibaba added with a lopsided smile. “Sometimes you don’t need to go back very far at all.”

 

“But, if they’re the oldest thing in Sidhe, shouldn’t there be way more of them?”

 

Judal felt the wolf beneath him shift her gait, then right herself as if nothing had happened. It was a split second, the air had changed and he had felt something unpleasant dart past his ear. A whisper on the breeze he didn’t quite catch, but left him with a sense that he had been taunted.

 

“Faerie are less likely to conceive among their own, there is a higher chance of offspring through crossbreeding.” Hakuryuu said. “Or so my vassals tell me.”

 

He flicked his eyes over Judal, assessing him in the careless way that meant he was looking for something. A sign that he had noticed the half-second change in mood, perhaps. Judal blinked back at him steadily, and Hakuryuu smiled.

 

“Which is why you are more likely to meet the descendant of a faerie than one of pure blood.”

 

“Unless you choose to venture to the heart of Seelie court, of course!” Pisti chirped. “The Queen is a faerie!”

 

“She is?”

 

Judal’s interest had been piqued, and he sat straighter, looking quizzically at his prince.

 

“Are you, then?” he asked him.

 

Hakuryuu’s faint smile became a short, bright laugh. It shivered pleasantly like the frosty morning after the first snow of winter, and Judal found himself wanting to taste the sound on his tongue. Another time, perhaps.

 

“No, sweetling, I am not. Nor is my mother, nor any of our kin. There is not a name for what we are, only that we can recognize one another, and have ruled UnSeelie for a very long time.”

 

“That seems kind of vague.”

 

“Speaking of your vassals, Hakuryuu,” No one interrupted Alibaba to mention that they hadn’t been. “Isn’t the one just a step away from faerie?”

 

“Yes. Belial is only two generations removed, if not only one. I suspect Zagan is of similar heritage, but he tends to become unreasonable if I pry.”

 

“What kind of fae are they, then?” Judal asked.

 

Hakuryuu’s smile was back.

 

“There is no name for them either.”

 

“That seems relatively inconvenient.”

 

“Perhaps. Some things are best left unspoken.”

 

Somehow, Judal didn’t think he was talking about his vassals.

 

 

* * *

  
  


 

The journey continued, led by Morgiana who as far as Judal could tell held neither compass nor map, but seemed to have an idea of where she was going. His curiosity encouraged him to question it, however the answers he’d been given were enough to mull over for one day. He allowed his mind to pick apart the sparse facts he’d learned about the faerie, and the little slip in atmosphere that had gone unmentioned. When day faded to night, he looked up at the star laden sky and thought of Belial’s countless eyes.

 

The next day, Judal asked about faeries again. He learned that they were capable of the most powerful magic in Sidhe, that they shaped Sidhe to their liking when the whim came to them, and that they were governed only by what they chose. They had wings, Pisti told him with so much excitement she was practically vibrating. Glorious wings, which none of their progeny inherited. Pixie wings came from dragonflies and the wings of a bird were nothing like the wings of a faerie.

 

When, on the third day, Judal had yet _more_ questions, he fully expected someone to tell him to shut up. Yet, rather than begrudging his curiosity, his traveling companions seemed to find his endless stream of interest _endearing_. Everyone had something to tell him, from Spartos’s wealth of historical knowledge to Alibaba’s adventurous anecdotes, always accompanied by Hakuryuu’s dry quips. Judal was allowed to chatter on for hours and then fall silent for just as long to process everything he’d learned, only to do the same all over again.

 

Over dinner on the third evening, Spartos offered to teach Judal how to begin exploring and controlling his magic.

 

“If you would be amendable, of course, Prince Hakuryuu.”

 

Hakuryuu probably _wasn’t_ amendable, if the expression that twisted his face was any indication. It was swept away immediately by a gentle smile when Judal gasped with delight and looked at him eagerly, all but bursting with excitement. Alibaba laughed.

 

“Oh come on, say yes, Hakuryuu!” he said, jabbing his elbow into his friend’s ribs. “You’re good at a lot of things, but teaching isn’t your strong suit.”

 

Hakuryuu cast Alibaba a withering look. Nasty words curled snakelike in his throat, and the sparkle in the golden prince’s eye said he knew it too, just as well as he knew that Hakuryuu would never let those words loose.

 

“While I am sure I would be more than capable to instruct Judal on my own,” he said. “I think it may be best if you were to take over his tutelage. A differing perspective from my own will be welcome, I think.”

 

They had started immediately, because Judal was impatient and the long hours of continuous riding were growing monotonous. His first lesson involved far less blowing things up and growing forests with a snap of his fingers than he would have liked, but it still left him awed and enthralled.

 

Spartos was an excellent teacher. He strung words together with a poetic grace that made their sharp efficiency easy to swallow. When he spoke of how magic _felt_ , Judal could feel something stir inside him in response. A living thing that had begun to push against the shell that encompassed his being, slowly forming cracks in its surface.

 

As they traveled, Spartos taught him how to look without seeing and see without looking. Sidhe opened anew, revealing the beings that twisted at the corner of his eye and lounged in shadows. He taught him how to taste the magic cording through every word he spoke, how to swallow what he didn’t want and twist what he did. During the few hours Hakuryuu finally called for a rest, Judal was instructed to explore his magic as a physical entity.

 

Judal buried his fingers in the earth and felt for the pulse of life, crowing with excitement when he found it. He drank crisp water from streams that turned hot on his tongue, and brought flickering flames to life on his fingertips. Wind could be coaxed into a light breeze, small buds convinced to blossom, and pixies coaxed into the palm of his hand. The feeling of magic, in all its form and shapes, were so many and varied he could never memorize them all. And somewhere amidst the ever-shifting web was _his_ magic, _his_ energy, waiting to be found.

 

Hakuryuu’s praise was by no means effusive, but he watched each new trick with rapt attention, sometimes prodding for Judal to try for just a bit _more_. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Judal, luckily, thought it was far too early for frustration.

 

Mortals liked to portray magic as very technical, with lots of rules and instruments and specific ways of going about things lest everything else go terribly _wrong_. Magic wasn’t like that at all in Sidhe. In Sidhe, magic was the air and the sun and the earth and the water and sky and trees and _everything_. There was nothing in this world that was not woven into the tapestry of magic.

 

Spartos never taught Judal any _rules_. He taught him to feel, to taste, to sense and experience the magic around him without allowing it to overwhelm him. There was magic in Judal too, and Spartos showed him how to listen to it, how to feel the thrumming of it beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. It came easily. The whispers came too, and the murmurs, and sometimes the distant song, all the voices that magic had brushing past him in a soft lull of white noise.

 

By the sixth day, Judal’s magic was far more noticeable than when their journey began. It no longer rolled off him in vaporous waves so much as emanated from him in a tangible aura, which now affected the world around him. Their lantern lights liked to burst and pop with his laughter, and his voice had begun to take on the strange lilt of the fae.

 

( And, to his delight, the flowers Hakuryuu wove into his braid now burst to life whenever he chose to kiss his prince. )

 

“Your Judal is remarkable.” Spartos murmured to Hakuryuu.

 

“I hardly need to be told as much.”

 

“I am sure, but I mean more than just that. I have never had the pleasure to meet a changeling before him, so perhaps it is in their nature, but I have never seen one take so easily to magic in its rawest shape. We are taught to manage the breadth of it when we are little more than babes, but for him? It could have swallowed him whole.”

 

Hakuryuu cast his eyes aside, to where Judal watched as Alibaba pulled tongues of fire from the air. He tipped a spark into Judal’s cupped hands, and it spread across his palms and fingertips into an orange blaze. Judal laughed, delighted, and curled his fingers in until the flames disappeared.

 

“I had not thought of it until now,” Hakuryuu said softly. “But in the mortal realm there is magic. It is weaker, hidden, not free and wild as it is here. And yet, around Judal I could call upon it and it would come, as if it were just _waiting_ to be called.”

 

“Perhaps it was. Waiting, that is.”

 

“Yes.” Hakuryuu agreed. “But I do not think it was waiting for _me_.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

And then quite suddenly, they had reached the mountain.

 

Nothing made one accustomed to Sidhe’s morphing landscapes quite like a week long, nearly non-stop ride through them. Judal had gone from confused to relatively unsurprised when forests became beaches and beaches became plains that became a whole different type of forest. Somehow, between the moment the sun rose and the moon fell they had gone from traveling along a single-file cliff edge to a heavy wood that smell of old magic and damp.

 

It still hadn’t quite prepared him for the mountain to just suddenly _appear_. Morgiana led them through a tangled mess of ivy and tree branches, and then there it was, rising up above them as if it had been there all along. The gentle slope of its base quickly gave way to a harsh incline swallowed by shadowed trees, cut by a thick stream which wound its way up towards the peak.

 

There was someone standing at the base of the mountain.

 

“Well you got here fast.” the someone sighed, hands on their hips and expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. “But I guess _she_ would explain that. Personally, I think using a Fanalis to sniff me out is cheating but, oh well. Here you are.”

 

Hakuryuu brought them to a halt, eyes trained warily on the stranger. Alibaba had a similar look in his eyes, but his caution was betrayed by an intense curiosity that tugged the corners of his mouth. The others all seemed mildly surprised by the appearance of the new fae, though all equally ready to spring to action at the first hint of hostility. Judal hung back, just behind Hakuryuu.

 

“I see king whatshisface, with the hair, is not with you so let me see...” The stranger lifted his hand to point at each of them. “Elf, Fanalis, prince, _Prince_ , some kind of mix and… Changeling. Huh.”

 

Eyes of rich, royal blue fixed on Judal, and suddenly he was falling. He wasn’t actually, he knew that, he could feel the dire wolf beneath him breathing and hear the thud of his own heartbeat but it felt as though the earth disappeared and suddenly there was-- _The sky_. The endless emptiness of midnight, the harsh light of dawn, the thousands of stars all bright, all burning, all flying past him faster and faster and fast--

 

Hakuryuu’s back appeared before him, blocking his line of sight. Judal blinked, and the world righted itself, leaving him dizzy but otherwise unaffected. Hakuryuu, on the other hand, was tensed and his next words came out biting.

 

“Name yourself!” he snapped. “Since you seem bold enough as it is!”

 

The stranger chuckled.

 

“Bold, am I? When you go around demanding names, o Prince? But fair enough, I suppose, since I seem to have caused you undo distress. T’was not my intention.”

 

Alibaba cocked his head without moving his eyes. Hakuryuu shifted in response, and they seemed to hold some kind of wordless conversation in the space of a heartbeat. The gryphon took one step to the right, and Hakuryuu led his dire wolf to the left, allowing Judal back into sight while framing him between the two princes.

 

Judal looked at the stranger properly this time, scanning his eyes over him without meeting his gaze. He was dressed in a single piece of fabric wrapped around his body like a tunic that fell open along one thigh, cinched at his waist by a cord of silk. Impossibly long hair fell from his neck and spooled on the ground in a braid, and a red jewel anointed his forehead. It was hard to guess his age, certainly not a child but definitely not an adult either. And _he_ was just a guess, because deeming him either masculine or feminine seemed contradictory in a way Judal couldn’t put his finger on.

 

He was beautiful, but then again, all fae were. Except that it was _more_ than that. Judal had looked into his eyes and seen something, between the sun and sky and stars that seemed to exist inside him. Something raw, different than in Hakuryuu, or Alibaba, or even Sinbad.

 

It dawned on Judal, before anyone else, that _this_ was the faerie.

 

“You may call me Aladdin,” the faerie smiled. “I am what you came here looking for.”

 

Pisti gasped, exuberant.

 

“How did you know we were coming?” Alibaba asked, at the same time as Hakuryuu said; “Then you know why we are here.”

 

Aladdin looked between them with the same, bemused smile, and settled on Alibaba first.

 

“Yes, I knew you were coming. Yunan,” Judal felt the name rake across his eardrums. “Was kind enough to let me know that he had brushed you lot off on me, before wandering off to moon knows where. I do not, however, know why you came. Yunan neglected to mention that rather pressing detail.”

 

Hakuryuu opened his mouth, but Aladdin held up a hand.

 

“Whatever the reason, I am willing to hear it out, provided that you can make it up the mountain.”

 

A condition had been set, and the magic that came with the beginning of a trial tasted faintly burnt. Like torches lining a path into unknown darkness. Judal found it kind of thrilling.

 

“If you wanted us to climb the mountain, why did you bother coming to meet us in the first place?” Alibaba questioned. “We were going to do it anyway.”

 

“Well, mostly, I had no desire to deal with you lot invading my home and mucking about unattended. Plus, it would be _unfortunate_ if you met Ugo under the wrong circumstances.”

 

The name _Ugo_ didn’t so much brush by as it did slam into Judal like a physical force. He felt it tear through him, leaving him wide eyed and feeling exposed, whole body tense. _Ugo_ wasn’t like _Aladdin_ , or _Yunan_ \-- It felt a lot like Hakuryuu, when he called upon him properly, but less controlled. Who, or what, ever _Ugo_ was, Judal had absolutely no desire to meet them.

 

The others seemed to share his sentiments.

 

“Forewarning us of the dangers of our task seems somewhat antithetical.”

 

Aladdin offered Spartos a placating smile and a lazy shrug.

 

“Warning will not do much in the face of actual danger, Elf. If you come across Ugo, anything I say will matter about as much as a fly to a storm.”

 

Well, wasn’t that reassuring.

 

Judal looked up at the mountain from the corner of his eye and saw nothing different than when he stared straight ahead. It hid nothing, he realized, because it didn’t _have_ to. The mountain, and the faerie that lived on it, had no reason to disguise the dangers that lay there. Once the boundary between where they stood and the base of the mountain was crossed, they were in a domain that no longer belonged to Sidhe, but to Aladdin alone.

 

“Before we accept your condition,” Hakuryuu said, pulling Judal’s attention back to the group. “I think it would be wise to address the glaring flaw in your claim; if you are who you say you are, there seems to be a key feature _missing_.”

 

Aladdin’s eyes rolled to fix onto Hakuryuu with unsettling slowness. Something shifted in his posture, though it was impossible to say if he had moved.

 

“My _wings_ , you mean?” he spoke in a low voice. “I hide them, o Prince. As most of us do. After everything that has happened, did you not think that we might find a way?”

 

That same whisper from days before whisked past Judal’s ear, and with it this time came a roll of nausea. He gripped onto the shoulders of his mount, forcing himself not to double over and clutch at his belly as the sensation swam through him. It was gone in a second, but not before the whisper had turned into a violent hiss.

 

Something about wings.

 

Something about _betrayal_.

 

Aladdin was still speaking.

 

“I know you have met Scheherazade,” he was saying. “Surely you do not doubt the blood of the Seelie Queen?”

 

“I, and most of Sidhe, know the Seelie Queen and her heritage quite well. You, however, are a stranger.”

 

Aladdin seemed to consider Hakuryuu’s words for a moment, then inclined his head.

 

“Fair enough. Still, I have no intention of revealing anything here. If you wish to speak to me about anything more, I will be at the mountain’s peak.”

 

He smiled, turned, and was suddenly gone. Everyone stared at the spot where he had been mutely for several long moments before someone finally laughed. It was, unsurprisingly, Pisti.

 

“He wasn’t like I pictured at all!” she giggled.

 

“Nor I.” Morgiana admitted, accompanied by an agreeing hum from Spartos.

 

Alibaba joined in the laughter and Hakuryuu sighed, tension draining from his shoulders.

 

“So, are we going after him?” Judal asked, surprised to find himself undisturbed compared to his somewhat shaken companions. Hakuryuu smiled wearily and brushed his fingers through Judal’s hair, which he seemed to do when he needed reassurance.

 

“Not right now. For now, we should rest. We have ridden for days and exhaustion will do us no favors.”

 

“Sounds good to me!” Alibaba said enthusiastically, as he swung from his gryphon’s back. The beast spread her wings and beat them once before taking off above the trees. She soared low, but wide, her master in sight at all times.

 

Judal slid off his dire wolf along with the others, and soon a joint effort was being made to set up camp. It felt good to be on solid ground again, and the idea of a full night’s rest was _incredibly_ appealing. Yet, for some reason, Judal got the sense that sleep wasn’t going to come easy to him tonight. Maybe it was the shadow of the mountain looming over them, or the thousand stars burning overhead, or maybe it was the feeling of _magic_ pulling at his skin.

 

He refused to give in to the yearning pull, but followed it, curious, until he found himself staring once more up at the faraway peak. Something dragged at him from the very depths of his being, urging him to begin his ascent.

 

Judal stared, then turned back and slid his arm through the crook of Hakuryuu’s, as if to anchor himself in place.


	38. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a big chapter to make up for my absence, thanks for the patience as usual everyone. 
> 
> And here's [another piece of fanart](https://claywind.deviantart.com/art/Serendipity-second-fanart-732221867) by the ever lovely Claywind over on dA!

Judal had another strange dream.

 

He was caught somewhere between the sea and the sky, swallowed by waves and then spat out among the stars. There was little sense of either hot or cold, but the thrumming of magic beneath his skin grew stronger with each passing breath. And he _breathed_. In and out, eating stars and drinking salt water until he felt full enough to burst.

 

This time when his skin began to peel away, there was nothing monstrous underneath. Instead there was light, and crystals, and something that burned to look at but he _couldn’t look away_. He felt joy, and fear, and happiness, and a euphoric sense of _yes yes yes_ that he couldn’t fathom even in a dream.

 

Someone else was in his dream. Multiple someones.

 

Hakuryuu with a hundred eyes, kissing him as his skin peeled from his bones and left him as only light and gemstones.

 

Spartos, pressing his hand to his belly and reminding him to exhale, to inhale, to feel for his center.

 

Aladdin, laughing, eyes sparkling, teeth sharp and smile kind.

 

When he woke up, Judal couldn’t remember the dream.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Even after a good night’s sleep, a warm breakfast, a dip in a nearby pond, and a few stolen moments of kissing Hakuryuu, the mountain _still_ looked menacing. Judal had hoped that the unpleasant atmosphere might have diminished overnight, but of course it hadn’t. Stars, he wanted to be at the top already. Then he could see Aladdin’s wings, and maybe ask him if he knew anything about changelings who had spent most of their lives in tiny apartments that smelled like citrus and ink.

 

Things went from casual to frustrating quickly when their mounts absolutely refused to cross the invisible boundary between forest and mountain. An entirely fruitless half-hour was spent trying to coax the various beasts closer to the mountain, but none of them budged. Not even Hakuryuu’s regal wolf, who made his unease known in the form of long, mournful howls.

 

Inevitably, this led to someone, who was Spartos, saying; “We should go on foot.”

 

Morgiana was by then fed up with their dithering and, ignoring a protesting Alibaba, grabbed Judal’s sleeve and hauled him towards the mountain before anyone could argue. As expected, Hakuryuu followed immediately, which put an end to whatever argument may have been about to take place.

 

There was only one path by which to enter the mountain, a wide strip of land that wound alongside the small river as it flowed up towards the peak. At first, the path seemed welcoming and easy to navigate, but soon it became evident that this was merely an illusion. The path twisted sharply in an undulating pattern not unlike a snake, so that the trees which had once appeared distant obscured what lay beyond the next turn. With each twist the path became narrower, forcing them to bunch together in a tight cluster so as not to step into the water or between the trees, and in turn the river widened.

 

It felt like no time at all before the path disappeared altogether and left them standing amidst the encroaching forest. They had walked a suspiciously straight strip of earth and then, suddenly, there was nothing but the wood about them and the river beside them. Morgiana breathed through her mouth, twisting her head to taste the air in all directions, while Judal tried not to lose himself in the hum of _life_ that traveled from the earth up through his bare feet.

 

Hakuryuu turned back to look where they had come from, then up at the patches of sky still visible through the leaves overhead. He wasn’t surprised to find the path gone, as if they had been walking without it for hours. The sun sat heavy in the sky, teetering between its height and inevitable descent. Back the way they came, the earth dipped in a slope that went unnoticed while they were in motion.

 

“Well, that did seem a bit easy.” Alibaba said.

 

“Where from here?” Pisti asked.

 

Morgiana tilted her head as if to consider answering, then looked to Hakuryuu instead. Hakuryuu in turn looked to Spartos, who he knew for a fact had been raised amidst the ever-changing mountain landscape the high elves called home. If there was someone to trust on a mountain, it was him.

 

“I think we should stick to the river.”

 

Judal was speaking out of turn and he knew it, and if he had had any doubt then the eyes of his companions would have told him as much. He spun the smooth stone he’d plucked from the riverside between two fingers. It wasn’t like he had _meant_ to speak when he wasn’t supposed to, the words had just kind of… slipped out.

 

Spartos shook his head.

 

“A water source will attract beasts. Perhaps more importantly,” he paused, expression shifting to the one Judal had come to associate with a lesson. “Can you think of it?”

 

Judal didn’t have to wrack his brain very hard, the lesson had been on the forefront of his mind even as he spoke.

 

“Running water strips magic.” he said. “Crossing any form of running water is worse than crossing a threshold uninvited, and has been known to nearly kill weak fae.”

 

“Exactly.” Spartos nodded. “All that in mind, avoiding the water is best.”

 

He addressed the group as a whole next, explaining that he believed they should head westward, away from the water, in search of a second path. It was unlikely to be easily found, possibly only traveled by beast and therefore visible only to those used to finding such walkways. He was confident he could, of course.

 

No one argued further, but Hakuryuu paused to brush his knuckles against Judal’s cheek.

 

“Stay close.” he murmured. _You seem frightened,_ Judal heard. _And I do not want you to be._

 

They split from the river and turned into the wood instead, spreading their formation slightly to account for the interruption of trees. Morgiana fell back, until she was close enough to grab Judal’s sleeve again. He glanced down at her, and she frowned.

 

“You think this is wrong.” she stated, rather than asked.

 

Judal thinned his lips and looked at the stone he had been toying with. It was plain, and well-worn by years of existence, oval shaped and unimpressive. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to hold onto it.

 

Magic was a learning curve like no other, and discerning between his own ignorance and his emerging instincts was a strain on his patience. Intuition was the sixth of what felt like an endless amount of senses necessary to navigate Sidhe. Thus far, it was the only one that came easily to him.

 

“Yeah.” he admitted, pocketing the stone. “Yeah I don’t feel-- I just don’t think this is a good idea.”

 

He couldn’t explain _why_.

 

Morgiana regarded him silently, then nodded.

 

“I will keep alert.”

 

Judal felt an immediate swell of fondness for her. There was little doubt that she had already planned to “keep alert”, but she had seen fit to try and reassure him anyway. For whatever reason, she seemed more inclined to listen to his instincts, and though he wasn’t sure why that was, he was grateful.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The sunlight petered out eventually, leaving the party to travel by the faint light of the lanterns at their hips. Stopping for the night so as not to lose their way had been suggested, but Hakuryuu vetoed the idea immediately.

 

“This wilderness is not truly _wild_ ,” he had hissed. “You think it wise to _sleep_ in the lands of a faerie?”

 

As if to punctuate his words, a sharp howl had cut the silence of the night. It was difficult to say where it originated from, but it was distant enough that no one felt the need to go for their weapons. This didn’t stop tension from gripping the group in a collective vice, or Hakuryuu from reaching out blindly until Judal’s hand was firmly clenched in his own.

 

No one mentioned stopping, after that.

 

Night was gone in the blink of an eye, but daylight didn’t lift the fog of unease that had settled over them. Spartos led them forward with grim purpose, focused intently on the earth in front of him until he came to a sudden stop. Judal reached into his pocket automatically, touching his fingers over the three stones he had picked up. Something about their weight was comforting.

 

Spartos’s jaw was tightened, eyes narrowed to disdainful slivers that made him look particularly unforgiving. His mouth drew into a thin line.

 

“This is east.” Pisti announced. “We are headed east.”

 

“We should _not_ be.” Spartos hissed, eyes flaring open along with his mouth, which twisted into a grimace.

 

“This point is higher than before, so we are going up.” Morgiana said. “But she is right. This is east.”

 

Hakuryuu exhaled between his teeth, but said nothing. He didn’t have to, the way his eyes were dancing with barely contained frustration. Judal wanted to reach out for him, but thought better of it. Hakuryuu was their leader, decision making would ultimately fall to him, and he didn’t need any distractions when he was already irate.

 

“High elves have command of most mountains.” Alibaba said, directing his conversational tone at Judal. “They build their cities in these places that are nearly impossible to reach without one of them guiding you. Usually, they can get through, over, or around any mountain they come across, anywhere in Sidhe.”

 

“Yes, well, an exception has appeared.” Spartos snapped.

 

He ran a hand through his sleek hair, ears twitching irritably.

 

“It is as if the mountain is mocking me. I can feel the directions, the pull of the paths- they _want_ to be walked upon, the same as any path does -but the more I seek them the more they change.”

 

“I don’t think this place much cares for visitors.” Alibaba said.

 

Pisti threw her hand up, as if she needed to ask permission to speak, then spoke anyway without it being given.

 

“Since we stopped anyway, let me try something!”

 

Hakuryuu nodded his head once and she scampered off. Pisti didn’t go far, only a few paces from where the group stood, at which point she bent down and opened her mouth, only to chatter instead of speak. Judal watched, fascinated, as the petite fae alternated between tones, voices, and what may have been speech patterns, before stopping. She stood and shook her head, returning to the group.

 

“I figured.” she sighed. “The animals won’t listen to me, so the beasts _definitely_ won’t.”

 

“ _Brilliant._ ” Hakuryuu snarled, whirling away from her so he could collect himself before his anger even reached the surface.

 

Alibaba leaned over, whispering to Judal conspiratorially and effectively distracting him from doing anything about Hakuryuu’s temper.

 

“Pisti can speak beast.” he informed him. “She can’t control them, really, but she can talk to them the same way she would a person. Most animals only understand fae magic on a basic level, so she can usually _compel_ them to do what she wants.”

 

“Sounds useful.”

 

“Yeah, believe me, there’s little scarier than an army of squirrel spies. You literally can’t keep a secret from her back home.”

 

Hakuryuu took a few moments to reign in the temptation to lash out at the forestry around them and turned back to his companions. He met their eyes one by one, assessing each of them in turn. Pisti was disappointed that she would be of little use, but was otherwise unaffected. Morgiana was calm as ever, and Alibaba had kept himself calm by redirecting nervous tension into educating Judal. Judal, in turn, seemed uneasy but stubbornly reticent to let it show.

 

Spartos seemed the most off-balance of all of them, no doubt livid at his own inability to use a basic instinct he’d had since childhood. Like being stripped of a limb and unsure how to balance yourself without it. Hakuryuu could relate to that feeling, and that thought brought calm back to his mind. He was here to make sure none of them lost their way, literally or figuratively.

 

“Find west.” he instructed Spartos, who nodded sharply. “I still think your reasoning for going that way is sound. While we go, I suggest trying to move upwards as best we can at the same time. We have already wasted one night making questionable progress.”

 

Hakuryuu swept his eyes over them again.

 

“Time is against us, the sooner we reach the summit, the better.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

West didn’t seem inclined to stay in the same position for more than an hour at a time, and that was assuming that Sidhe _had_ hours, which was entirely up for debate.

 

The infuriating frequency with which west changed orientation was enough to disorient everyone, even while standing still. For every step forward, they seemed to take three more back. It was hard to say if they were even climbing in elevation at this point. If they tried to retraced their path, they just found themselves in entirely different locations altogether. Not that it was easy to tell, because the forest hadn’t changed in well over a day.

 

Going in circles would have felt more productive.

 

Hakuryuu was nearing the edge of his patience with alarming speed. He had no intention of spending an indefinite amount of time wandering aimlessly around on some damned mountain, though the mountain wasn’t exactly giving him much choice. Feeling lost, no matter how much he told himself that they weren’t, was unpleasant enough to make him nauseous if he thought about it for too long. It was too similar to how he had felt in the mortal realm, disconnected and out of his natural element.

 

Sidhe was supposed to be where he was in control, where the very earth beneath his feet sang for him and magic came when he called for it. And the mountain was full of life that his magic _should_ have drawn on, yet somehow it danced just out of his reach. When he grabbed for it, it slipped through his fingers, but shimmered close by as if to taunt him. His only consolation was that it was like that for everyone in the group, from Morgiana who could barely trust the scent of the air to Judal, whose fidgeting only stopped if Hakuryuu grabbed his hand.

 

Alibaba handled frustration even worse than Hakuryuu did, somehow, but without some external ignition for his temper he dealt with it by chattering endlessly. Blessedly, Judal was a receptive listener who had never heard any of his stories, jokes, or rambling descriptions of treaties between kingdoms before. They kept one another entertained, and their lighthearted banter eased the tension in the air.

 

After passing the same tree, with the same configuration of moss on its trunk, four separate times, Hakuryuu simply stopped looking at the world around him. Though the magic slid from his fingers like sand, it welcomed him when he submerged his consciousness in it. He sank into the _life_ around him and followed it, rather than his eyes. Spartos was a steady thrum ahead of him that he latched onto, while the inherent magic of the faerie’s domain prickled against his nerves.

 

Like this, Hakuryuu felt the forest shift around them before anyone saw it begin to change. When he dragged himself back from the depths, it was to find that they were now walking through a forest of far more tropical origin than before. The air was humid, and the trees grew to incredible heights, the canopy of boughs overhead so thick that they blotted out the sun. It was dim within this forest, and it smelled of damp earth and rotted fruit.

 

Hakuryuu resisted the urge to loudly express his relief over the changed terrain. It was the closest thing to progress they had had since they set foot on the mountain. Pisti was less reserved, and was making a series of delighted chirping sounds that seemed to speak for all of them.

 

Blindly, Hakuryuu reached back in search of his lover’s hand. Judal’s fingers soon curled around his own, reassuring in their warmth, but concerning in the tightness of their grip. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Judal had spent most of the day talking without saying anything, only half-focused on whatever conversation he was having with Alibaba. He wanted to ask, knew he _should_ ask, but it didn’t feel like the time or place to allow himself to be distracted. At some point, he would find a balance between the role he was used to playing in Sidhe and the person he had been with Judal in the mortal realm, but he hadn’t yet.

 

That was _also_ frustrating, so he squeezed Judal’s hand and chose not to let go this time.

 

UnSeelie harbored no tropical landscapes, leaving Hakuryuu well out of his element as they trooped further into the dank forest. Morgiana fell back, bringing up the rear alongside Alibaba, and though the pair remained outwardly relaxed, their eyes had sharpened as they gazed out into the swaying shadows. Without light, it was impossible to tell what time of day it may be, or how long they had been walking. Soon, there was only the humid air and the distant rustling of wildlife preying on their nerves.

 

After what felt like an age foraging their way into the eerie murk, Spartos came to a stop. The others all drew up short behind him, exchanging glances heavy with apprehension. Judal squeezed Hakuryuu’s hand before letting it drop, only to stuff both hands into his pockets instead.

 

( He touched the stones he had collected, running his fingers over their smooth surfaces as though it was a habit he’d always had. )

 

“I cannot find it.” Spartos announced.

 

“Can’t fi-- What, _west_?” Alibaba said, incredulous. “It’s a whole direction, Spartos! There are only four!”

 

His outburst was rewarded with a withering stare.

 

“There are more than _four_ directions, prince Alibaba. Or do I need to inform king Sinbad that you ought to join the palace children in their lessons?”

 

Alibaba flushed, thoroughly abashed.

 

“I cannot feel the pull of the northern star,” Spartos continued. “And of the directions, north is the easiest to detect. If even that is gone then I have nothing to extrapolate from. Direction has been completely obscured. I cannot even see the sky, to use my eyes as a guide.”

 

“ _Fantastic._ ” Judal hissed under his breath.

 

Alibaba swore. Then he swore again, because Hakuryuu had refrained from doing so.

 

“We go back.” Hakuryuu ordered, grasping for the semblance of a plan. “Finding where we lost our way may provide some clue, there must be something we missed.”

 

There had to be, because the alternative was that they hadn’t missed anything, and their expedition had been doomed from the start.

 

Morgiana shifted her weight.

 

“We should not _be_ here.” she murmured.

 

Everyone fell silent at once as they finally acknowledged the ominous shift in atmosphere. The jungle had hardly been welcoming, but now an oppressive sense of anxiety blanketed them as thickly as the mulch on the ground. The change had come so swiftly, so subtly, that it felt almost as if the jungle had been patiently awaiting the moment when they all finally realized it had led them into the bowels of the unknown.

 

No matter how it was phrased, they were unquestionably lost, and without any form of compass by which to guide them.

 

“We go back.” Hakuryuu repeated firmly, his face a calm mask over a sea of unease.

 

Retracing their steps was easy at first. This muggy land didn’t repeat itself as the endless rows of trees from before had, and when their memories failed them there was Morgiana to follow their fading scent. It felt like progress, even if they _were_ going backwards, which was better than they’d had in a long while. No one spoke, each of them doing their best to smother their anxiety for the sake of the others. One crack in their proverbial armor could spell disaster for them all.

 

Pisti found her way to Judal’s left side, mirroring Hakuryuu’s strides on his right. Judal’s hands remained tucked into his pockets, eyes a constant flicker of motion across their surroundings without moving from the ground beneath their feet. Everyone walked closer together, knitting themselves into a single moving entity.

 

The further into the murk they went, the more sure it became that they were not following the path they had come from. No one dared to acknowledge it aloud, but tension hung about them in a thick miasma that said it for them. As desperately as they tried to find their way, the mountain seemed twice as intent to mislead them. If only it were as simple as that; _that_ was an old fae trick, to confuse the magic and make it lead someone to the opposite of where they wanted to go. They all knew how to circumvent that sort of thing.

 

But this was something else. Something older and more obscure, possibly, _probably_ , something unique to the faerie. Hakuryuu had never experienced magic that simply had no interest in him, and as soon as they were done with Aladdin he was going to work very hard to make sure he never dealt with it again. It was _uncomfortable_. Even the magic of the mortal realm had crawled willingly beneath his skin and settled into his blood and bones, not just wandered over his skin lazily, bemused by his frustration.

 

“Something is waiting up ahead.” Morgiana said abruptly, bringing them all to a sudden halt.

 

“Should we go back?” Alibaba asked.

 

Pisti shuddered.

 

“They already know we’re here.”

 

And wasn’t _that_ a comforting statement.

 

Even Judal knew better than to suggest turning their backs on an unknown foe, so there was nothing for it but to continue forwards. Hakuryuu prowled shoulder to shoulder with Spartos through the gloom, stepping lightly around puddles of muck and patches of lazily twisting vines. Something was moving ahead of them, rustling the canopy and stomping through the rotted fruit. Suddenly, large figures came loping out of the shadows and the fae froze.

 

Judal stared.

 

At first, all he could focus on were the pairs of glowing yellow eyes, speckled with brown, like overripe bananas. The smell hit him next, a pungent aroma of wet fur, sickly sweet nectar and musk. Even hunched, the beasts were massive, coarse gray fur covering bulky, muscled bodies. If he had to equate them to anything, they looked like apes, except apes were not suppose to be this huge, or have interlocking canines that jutted over their lips, or hissing, undulating vipers for tails.

 

Hakuryuu curled his fingers more tightly around the hilt of his sword, slowly edging the blade from its sheathe. He didn’t dare risk any sudden movements because there was a chance, an incredibly slim _chance_ , that the beasts would decide it wasn’t worth it to try and fight a gaggle of fae.

 

The largest ape stepped forward, digging thick claws into the soft ground, opened its mouth, and _screamed_.

 

Hakuryuu had his sword free of its sheathe before the beast’s roar reached its crescendo.

 

The fae drew first blood. One of the sharp stones Spartos wore at his hip extended in his hands into a beautiful lance that cut across the distance between himself and the ape lunging towards him, catching it mid-leap in its exposed belly. The ape bellowed its pain, jerking sporadically and rolling to the forest floor, scrabbling at its bloody fur as it hollered. The sight of blood seemed only to enrage the others, who thundered forward, leaping at their foes.

 

Distance was going to be their friend in this fight, Hakuryuu could already see it. These beasts were huge and powerful, more than capable of snapping bone and crushing internal organs. He was proud to note that his companions had placed themselves between the beasts and Judal, who had wisely scampered back as far as he could without being separated from them. Not that it would do any good if the apes set upon them in a pack, since the resulting chaos would be too much to keep track of all at once.

 

Spartos caught another jumper, this time between the ribs, jerking forward to plunge his lance deep enough to puncture lungs. Pulling free of a corpse took precious seconds, which may have cost him, had Morgiana not already sucked in a breath and loosed a ferocious shockwave of noise. The apes were driven back, startled, some of the smaller ones clearly frightened, which bought them time. Not a lot, but enough for Alibaba to launch twin arrows of fire from his fingertips and set two of the young beasts aflame.

 

Their shrieks of pain and fear brought another bloodcurdling scream from the leader, lips pulled back over yellowed teeth and spittle flying from its open jaws.

 

Stars, Hakuryuu had missed this.

 

The enemy rushing towards him, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the steady feeling of his allies at his side. He had wielded a blade in the mortal realm but it wasn’t the same, not like it was in Sidhe. The weight was different, the silver glistened like stars, it hummed with magic that recognized him, called to him, _loved_ how his hands curled tight at the hilt as his anticipation mounted. His blade was an extension of his body.

 

Alibaba’s eyes were golden fire, his mouth a vicious smile that begged for bloodshed. Spartos held a gaze as unforgiving as the mountain itself. Morgiana’s face belonged to a predator hungering for the hunt, and Pisti’s laugh was a tittering war cry.

 

With two apes gouged and two now smoldering and lying prone, they were left with five beasts to contend with. It had been six, at first count, but Pisti had set her talons into a foolishly exposed throat, laughter rising in pitch as she tore flesh to ribbons. Five fae against five beasts, not terrible odds, even if the magic of the mountain refused to be used by the intruders. Pisti had already darted after another one, not far from where Spartos contended with the second largest of the pack.

 

Spartos wove and dodged and struck with such brutal precision that it made the raging beast seem bumbling and clumsy. In the beginning it had landed a few glancing blows, denting armor in places and opening a gash on Spartos’s pale cheek. Now, its movements were frenzied and frantic as Spartos gouged into it over and over, matting its fur with thick rivulets of blood.

 

A spry youngster, no doubt seeking revenge for its charred brethren, had seen fit to challenge Alibaba. Without direct sunlight to draw from, Alibaba chose to use his magic sparsely and relied mainly on his sword. Flames danced along the blade’s edge, white hot and playful, licking over skin and melting fur into flesh with every strike. To the untrained eye, Alibaba’s strange posture and playful grin seemed unbalanced. Hakuryuu knew better. He had been crossing swords with this man since the day they met, teaching him UnSeelie technique to fill the gaps in Sinbad’s tutelage. To fight a beast was a game to him, he verged on the same kind of manic laughter as Pisti, just this side of too composed to let it free.

 

Only Morgiana had the strength to best one of the beasts in close quarters, and thus she had chosen to take the most dangerous opponent for herself. The leader of the apes was easily five times her size, if not more, though you would be hard pressed to tell from how she grappled with him. When its punishing blows did little to deter the sturdy fae, the ape changed tactics, lashing out with ragged claws. It followed this with a darting bite from its viperous tail, which was its first mistake.

 

Morgiana caught the snake by its head and sunk claws of her own down through scale into muscle, twisted her wrist, then _wrenched_. The motion took only a few seconds, then the snake’s head popped clean off. The ape howled, furious and in pain, as its tail lashed uselessly in wild, jerky arcs. Morgiana’s linen wrap was streaked with mauve blood, but she hardly seemed to notice.

 

Bitter cold crept its way through Hakuryuu’s blood, seeking to chill his nerves until he was naught by ice. The cold creature that lurked within him gnawed at his belly; restless, _hungry_ , after so long without release. What blood he had shed in the mortal realm could not compare to the carnage he was capable of here. Part of him yearned for it, for the familiar, seductive lull of cool darkness as it swallowed down his being and freed him of all but the enemy before him and what he chose to protect behind.

 

The beasts. _Ahead_.

 

Judal. _Behind_.

 

The last ape bore down on him with a savage yowl, tearing up chunks from the earth as it raced towards him. Hakuryuu forced back the invading chill and narrowed his focus to the beast before him, blocking out all the other fights taking place around him. It would be easy to let the icy sharp magic of his court guide his blade, but it was hardly worth the effort for a single beast. No, the thing scratching at his ribs would want more bloodshed than he could provide it then, a challenge that this beast would never be able to rise to. It was better to avoid the inevitable frustration in the aftermath.

 

Hakuryuu allowed the beast to come to him, and the ensuing fight required neither precision nor finesse. All it asked of him was his agility, which Hakuryuu possessed in spades. He wove between the ape’s flailing blows with grace, his feet never on the ground more than a few seconds before they were dancing away again, guiding him back and forth, under and around. Even if he had never hefted a sword in his life, so long as he could evade, he could have won. As it happened, Hakuryuu had been taught the art of the blade from the time he was a child, and that made things all the easier.

 

A few well placed stabs rendered the ape too weakened to move. It had overexerted itself, blood gushing from arteries it had been too enraged to notice had been ruptured. Hakuryuu swiped a single gash across its throat for good measure as it fell, and claimed his victory.

 

The jungle had stilled again by the time Hakuryuu took in his surroundings. He whistled sharply, and almost immediately five- no, _six_ , whistles echoed him. Judal’s came late, as if he was unsure if he should join in, and the sound of it filled Hakuryuu with a sense of relief. His shoulders slumped and he leaned over to wipe his blade clean on the carcass of his kill.

 

Almost as soon as he stood straight to sheathe his sword, a distant shriek rent the air.

 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Morgiana’s hackles rise. He took quick stock of his other companions, all close enough to be seen but too far to keep close, and felt his heart speed up. Seconds of strained silence ticked by as the six fae stared apprehensively into the gloom.

 

Then came another scream. Then another. Pounding, like distant drums, met their ears and as it drew closer, they became aware that it was not drums but footfalls. The thundering echo was punctuated by howls and screeches, rising to a crescendo as whatever stampede was coming drew near. Even without seeing the beasts, it was obvious that they would be vastly outnumbered.

 

The beasts would overwhelm them.

 

“Run.” Hakuryuu ordered. “ _Run!_ ”

 

They _ran_.

 

When fae ran, they were like shadows and sunlight. Shifting, darting and vibrating at the edge of one’s vision; there but not at all. They were nigh impossible to keep track of using sight alone, one had to know how to _listen_ , how to catch their scent, or taste their magic in the air. Hakuryuu knew how to track a fae, he used every trick he knew to try and keep his companions within reach.

 

It didn’t work. The jungle itself seemed to try and pry them all apart, taking advantage of their frenzied flight to obscure their way and confuse them.

 

Paths disappeared underfoot.

 

Trees sprouted from nowhere, roots arcing up in great tangles, like giant nets trying to catch slippery minnows.

 

The magic of the mountain caught and spun their senses into a delirious mess, dizzying and nauseating.

 

One by one, they disappeared amidst the shadows.

 

By the time he stopped running, Judal was certain he was going to be violently ill. He doubled over, unable to continue moving another step at that speed, and heaved dryly over a pile of crisp auburn leaves. The jungle was gone, replaced by a quiet, musky forest, which smelled of freshly turned earth. Trees stood tall and thin, tucked into dark soil pocked by upturned stones and boulders, their branches almost completely bare of leaves. Despite the lack of canopy, light seemed hesitant to filter down through the boughs.

 

Judal’s head had barely stopped spinning when something touched his back. He spun fearfully, only to sag with relief when he recognized Spartos’s concerned face.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

 

Tentatively, Judal nodded. He waited for another wave of nausea that didn’t come, leaving him a few moments to flick his eyes over Spartos. The elf was still bruised from his battle, armor scuffed, the cut on his cheek muddy with drying blood, and though he was directing his concern at Judal, he looked equally pale and unsettled.

 

“Where’s everyone else?” Judal asked, finally looking around for the rest of their group.

 

“As lost as we are, I imagine.”

 

Well, wasn’t that a cheery thought. Judal looked around with renewed alertness, looking for landmarks or a conveniently placed sign pointing them in the right direction. Possibly Aladdin lurking in the shadows, laughing at their plight.

 

“I couldn’t see anyone else, how did you keep track of me?”

 

“You were in front of me, and once the landscape began changing my sense of direction returned enough to tell you were going east. I just tried to do the same, assuming we would end up in the same area if I did.”

 

“You didn’t happen to see where anyone else headed, did you?”

 

“No. Did you?”

 

“No. I think Hakuryuu tried to catch up with me but I-” he shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I think I was moving too fast or something. I didn’t even know I could run like that, I sure as hell couldn’t back in the human world.”

 

“Be glad you can.” Spartos said gravely, which came off so ominous Judal wasn’t even sure how to respond.

 

They lapsed into silence, and Judal found himself gravitating closer to Spartos as he observed their surroundings. Spartos eyed the woodland critically, no doubt looking for a hidden path that would lead them somewhere other than where they stood. Judal’s eyes couldn’t stay still, flicking from leaf covered earth to the peeling bark of tree trunks, to moss covered stones and up to the tangle of empty branches overhead.

 

There was nothing to indicate the presence of the ape-like beasts from before, or any other living creature, for that matter. In fact, there didn’t seem to be so much as an ant crawling across the ground. Judal strained to listen into the silence, searching for the distant sound of a bird call or shuffling of small paws through the underbrush.

 

Dead quiet answered him.

 

This kind of still silence _never_ led to good things. Judal was reminded of the frozen cityscape when Belial and Zagan had made their appearances in the mortal realm, which really only unsettled him more. Hakuryuu’s vassals were the kind of ancient, powerful beings humans had spent centuries cowering in fear of when the sun went down, and even they hadn’t stilled Sidhe like this.

 

Oh, fuck, Judal realized. This silence wasn’t natural. _Something_ was out there.

 

“We need to go.” he said. “Like _right now_ , Spartos.”

 

Rather than question him, Spartos set off immediately through the thin trees, trusting Judal to follow without further explanation. And he did, he wanted to get out of this forest before whatever was in it noticed that they had intruded. He was so focused on his urge to _get away_ that his mistake occurred to him far too late. In his haste, Judal had forgotten that unspoken words carried further and with more volume than any screams in Sidhe.

 

How long had he been thinking about the being? How many times had he referred to it in his mind, acknowledged its presence at the edge of his consciousness? Hadn’t he felt a name, lazily tumbling into his thoughts and daring to be considered at the back of his mind? Thoughts held intent, and intent held power. One did not have to speak to be heard.

 

He may as well have drawn the creature a map straight to him.

 

They hadn’t gone more than ten yards when Spartos came to a sudden halt and reached out, gripping fiercely at Judal’s elbow.

 

“Be still.” he hissed, voice sharp and urgent.

 

Staying still seemed like a good idea. Staying still seemed like a _fantastic_ idea, actually. The air was growing heavy and the whisper of magic against his skin was becoming a violent storm of lightning pinpricks. Beneath the bare soles of his feet Judal could feel the earth trembling, and as the atmosphere grew more oppressive, the light seemed to dim. His animal instinct to freeze or flee was in full control, keeping Judal in place while filling him with the urge to run and hide behind the biggest rock he could find.

 

Magic was wonderful, but incomprehensible, and while Judal was fond of its absurdity in most cases, this wasn’t one. Something prickled beneath his skin and made his fingers flex, trying to curl around something that wasn’t there. His eyes swept searchingly across the shadowed underbrush, seeking a shape, a form, an object, a being? He didn’t know. The magic of it called to him, though, and so he was sure it was there.

 

The timing could have been better. The last thing he wanted to be thinking about right now was how he had to find it, whatever it was, quickly, and how _imperative_ it was that he did. When he _did_ find it, his heart leapt and his eyes fixed on the perfectly smooth, oblong stone, lying innocently between two knobbly tree roots.

 

He was across the distance and scooping up the stone before his common sense, or Spartos, could try and stop him. In his haste, he missed how the stone pulsed with pure energy when his fingertips connected, but it was impossible not to feel how it hummed in the palm of his hand. The other six stones, distributed between his two pockets, hummed in return.

 

A voice filtered through the trees, singing a haunting lullaby without any words. The presence drew ever closer, threatening to crush them beneath the weight of its very existence. Judal was pulled down into the flow of magic around him, and was immediately overwhelmed by it. His mind refused to keep up with the indescribable experience, but his body operated as instinct demanded.

 

Spartos stood stock still, watching as Judal pulled stone after stone from his pockets, clutching the one he’d just picked up in his left hand. He laid them out in a perfect circle, the newest last, placed carefully back onto the earth with a somber kind of reverence. The change was instantaneous, the crushing pressure lifted and the world inside the circle seemed to grow fractionally brighter. Judal blinked back into focus and stumbled away from the edge of the circle, backing up until his shoulder knocked into Spartos’s.

 

They stayed still, breathing as quietly as they could, and stared out into the trees. For a long time, nothing happened. The singing swayed on the air, around their silent circle without ever seeming to cross the boundary. The ground continued to shake, and now the trees shivered with it.

 

And then _something_ crossed their line of sight.

 

He stepped from between two trees on their right, carrying himself with the languid strides of a man unhurried. From heel to head he stood well over thirty feet tall, with broad shoulders that pushed aside the spindly tops of the suddenly small-seeming trees. The song he sung leaned heavily against the ringed barrier, as though it had just realized that it could not quite reach them with its eerie notes.

 

Judal stared straight ahead and didn’t breathe. He didn’t move. If he looked up, he would have seen shaggy hair of sapphire blue layered against the fae’s sharp cheekbones, but he didn’t dare. Just knowing the shape of this being, the powder blue color of his skin, the casual ease of his gait, was already too much. The image of him would haunt Judal for he didn’t know how long, and as long as it remained in his mind, this being would be connected to him. Able to find him, seek him out at the bare hint of remembrance.

 

The circle held strong, even as the towering fae walked mere feet from its edge. It felt as though an eternity passed before the creature ambled his way back into the trees, singing lightly as he went. Slowly, slowly, the light began to filter back through the leafless canopy, and the air began to move again.

 

Spartos and Judal shared a long exhale of breath.

 

Judal slumped to the ground, hanging his head in an attempt to assuage yet another spell of dizziness. Whatever that had been, it had been old and powerful, and bone-deep _terrifying_. In retrospect, it wasn’t even because of itself, necessarily, but because the scale of it offered a daunting level of insight.

 

The being had to be weaker than Aladdin, to dwell on his mountain freely. In turn Aladdin was, in theory, weaker than the Queens. One of those Queens was Hakuryuu’s mother, who they were going to kill. The Queen who ruled an entire court and kept Sidhe’s very existence in balance.

 

If he hadn’t been concentrating on not being sick, Judal would have laughed hysterically.

 

It took a few minutes to regain his composure, but eventually the nausea passed and he could lift his head. When he did, he found Spartos regarding him thoughtfully. He looked even paler than before, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, but when he spoke it was with the same calm as ever.

 

“I think it would be good to introduce you to Yamraiha, when we return.”

 

The complete non-sequitur totally threw Judal. He blinked in bleary confusion at his teacher.

 

Endeared, Spartos offered Judal a light smile that brought a touch of color back to his cheeks. He offered him a hand and helped him back to his feet.

 

“Yamraiha is a general of king Sinbad’s, like myself. She is regarded as something of a prodigy in the study of magic. What she lacks in power she makes up for as a researcher-- I think you will need a teacher like that.”

 

“I hate studying.” Judal muttered absently, and Spartos laughed.

 

Judal giggled shakily and immediately felt himself calming down. Laughter felt good, it smoothed the frayed edges of his nerves and steadied his pounding heart. His head filled with memories of finals and pop quizzes, neither of which he’d ever have to think about again, and the sheer _normalcy_ of them. He had left humanity behind, but there was a comfort to be had in the simplicity of his previous life.

 

“Let’s get the hell out of here and find everyone else, yeah?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Another bush burst into blue flames and Alibaba winced.

 

“That’s eight...” he muttered, low enough Hakuryuu couldn’t hear him over his seething.

 

He couldn’t really blame Pisti for hiding up a tree like she was, it was probably the smarter thing to do. It felt like a minor miracle that Hakuryuu’s pacing had yet to wear a trench in the exposed earth, though to compensate the surrounding area was pocked with smoldering greenery.

 

Alibaba silently begged Morgiana to come back soon with good news, and as if in answer to his wish, she reemerged from the foliage. A moment later Spartos, then Judal, stepped out into the clearing behind her. Alibaba was so relieved to see them-- both because he was worried and because he was growing increasingly concerned by Hakuryuu –he could have hugged them, but wisely hung back.

 

Hakuryuu stormed over, eyes blazing. He ignored Spartos entirely and instead grabbed Judal, dragging him closer and scanning him for injuries at the same time. Spartos stepped away from the couple to join Alibaba, Morgiana and Pisti, glancing around with brows raised.

 

“Setting fire to a faerie mountain.” he said dryly. “What an incredibly bad idea.”

 

“That’s what I said!”

 

Alibaba responded with an offended scowl when Spartos looked at him incredulously.

 

“ _I_ didn’t start them!” he said, gesturing to Hakuryuu pointedly.

 

The prince was still seething through his teeth. Judal was unharmed, but something had clearly shaken him. His hair was mussed, flyaway strands escaped from his braid and curling up against his neck and jaw. The tick of his heartbeat was a touch too fast, and his magic was close enough to the surface that Hakuryuu could almost feel it squirming beneath his skin.

 

He would have gone on glowering at the invisible foe who had frightened his lover had Judal not cupped his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. Hakuryuu returned the kiss fiercely. Judal’s nails dug into his scalp as his fingers knotted through his hair, and his teeth worried Hakuryuu’s bottom lip until the skin threatened to break. The prince bit his tongue, then nipped the corner of his lips as they parted.

 

“So,” Pisti piped up once the lovers turned their attention to the group. “Does anyone know where we are?”

 

This version of woodland was lush, giving off the impression of fresh spring growth and bounty. Fruit hung from treetops and what bushes were still intact sagged under the weight of colorful berries. It reminded Judal how long it had been since he’d eaten, though he didn’t dare sample the strange fruit.

 

“We have not ascended more than a mile.” Morgiana said. “The exact place, I cannot be sure of.”

 

“This is east of where we were, so it’s probably closer to where we started when we began moving west.” Alibaba groaned. “Which means we’ve spent two days making basically no progress at all.”

 

Pisti whined aloud, which was an accurate summary of how everyone else was feeling at the moment. They were sore and dirty after their fight with the ape-beasts, tired after two days without sleep, and hungry. No one wanted to have to backtrack and make up a day or more of travel in their current state, but what choice did they have?

 

“Going west was clearly the wrong choice.” Hakuryuu declared.

 

Spartos winced and Morgiana asked; “East, then?”

 

“To what end? I doubt this mountain is treacherous in only one direction.”

 

“So we just go _up_? Come on Hakuryuu, that’s not much of a plan, and that’s coming from me!”

 

“Do you have a _better_ idea, Alibaba?” Hakuryuu snapped. “Because unless one of you knows a path straight to the mountaintop, there seems little reason to go anywhere but up.”

 

“I just don’t really think that aimlessly wandering upwards is the secret to ascending a faerie mountain, that seems kind of...”

 

“Simple?” Spartos said.

 

Pisti perked up. “Maybe that’s the point!”

 

“We should go back to the river.” Judal interrupted wearily, drawing everyone’s attention.

 

Like the last time he had made the suggestion, Spartos opened his mouth to protest, but Judal stopped him with an irritated scowl.

 

“Look, you’re _all_ right.” he said. “We’ve been halfway around the mountain at this point and all we’ve done is get lost _repeatedly_. The river is the closest thing to a solid path I’ve seen in the last two days! It can’t be _that_ much more dangerous to follow it than it is to wander around!”

 

“Actually, I think Judal has a point.” Pisti said, catching them all by surprise. “If you think about it, the first thing a fae is taught about going out into the world on their own is to avoid running water. Hiding a path alongside a river makes perfect sense, especially for a being strong enough to not be terribly concerned by its effects.”

 

“Rivers and streams do not often change their placements either.” Morgiana added. “If a river moves, it is often because the land itself has moved as well. So, if nothing else, it would be a good way to return to the base of the mountain if we must.”

 

Alibaba crossed his arms and frowned.

 

“This isn’t common land though, who’s to say that a faerie’s river will obey the same rules?”

 

“Forgetting even that,” Hakuryuu sighed. “Does anyone even know how to find the river again?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Judal asked, sounding confused. “It’s right over there.”

 

Judal turned and led his mystified companions between two trees, over a fallen log, and up to a low-hanging branch. He pushed the branch aside and, sure enough, there was the river visible through the gap. The babble of water over smooth stones filled their ears like it had been echoing around them forever, even if there had been no such sound just moments before.

 

Geographically, it shouldn’t have been possible. They had gone miles from the riverside, and changed altitudes several times. But that was just how Sidhe was, wasn’t it?

 

If the expressions of astonishment on his companion’s faces were anything to go by, maybe not.

 

Everyone was staring at the river, all save Hakuryuu, who instead stared openly at Judal. He couldn’t read his lover’s face, or the emotions flickering within his glacial eyes. They were there and gone too fast for him to catch, but before he could dwell on it for too long, Hakuryuu was kissing him again.

 

“Well spotted, sweetling.” he praised. Then, turning to the group; “I want everyone on their guard. This is the most obviously treacherous path to take, but Morgiana is right, it is also the most likely to be consistent.”

 

“Great.” Alibaba muttered. “Let’s walk straight into danger, why don’t we?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They did not, in fact, walk straight into danger.

 

Actually, they stopped and settled by the river first to eat a much needed meal of dry bread and salted meat, washed down with sour nectar that filled them with buzzing energy. As they ate, they took turns explaining what had happened to them whilst they were separated.

 

Hakuryuu had ended up alone, a fair bit away from any of the others, and probably would have spent fruitless hours wandering had Alibaba not had the forethought to tag him with a small ember of his magic. Once the danger had passed, Alibaba sought Hakuryuu out and the two found one another with relative ease. Morgiana had sniffed out Pisti, then the two of them, and finally gone off to recover Spartos and Judal. When it was Spartos’s turn to speak, he relayed what had happened to them in the desolate forest.

 

“ _Ooh_ a circle of protection!” Pisti gasped, delighted. “I never even thought to try something like that here!”

 

“Yeah, making a barrier is one thing, but to fully hide yourself like that on foreign soil you have to have mediums from the land itself. Finding the right ones is tough.” Alibaba agreed, tearing a strip from his meat with his teeth.

 

“Where _did_ you learn to do that?”

 

Judal answered Spartos with a noncommittal shrug.

 

“Just seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

 

Fed and thusly rejuvenated, the party set out once more, this time following the lazy winding of the riverbank. Judal no longer hovered in the midst of the group, but darted between them as whim directed. When another stone appeared in his path, smooth, oblong, and unremarkable, he scooped it up without question.

 

More stones appeared as the day wore on, all of which Judal collected and tucked into his pockets for later use. The group made idle conversation, occasionally lapsing into long stretches of companionable silence, only to pick back up again as if they had never stopped talking. For all the talk of caution and danger, the most startling thing they came across was a pure white doe and her platinum colored fawn, drinking from the rushing water on the other side of the river.

 

The walk was quite pleasant, actually. The trees on either side of the river never encroached close enough to fully obscure the sky overhead, and the air smelled of fresh water and damp moss. The sound of running water became a pleasant backdrop to their conversations, and the landscape remained predominantly lush and full of both flora and fauna.

 

“Hey,” Judal asked as midday turned into evening. “How do I make stuff float?”

 

“Oh, easy! Let me show you!” Pisti said excitedly, and she did.

 

By the time the sun had begun to disappear behind the treetops, Judal had mastered the ability to make small objects float on a pillow of air. Once the sun was gone and they were at the mercy of the night, he set seven stones in a wide circle around the group. The magic fell over them like a well-worn cloak, blanketing them in a bubble of quiet amidst the sounds of nighttime. Judal held out his hands and the stones lifted as one from the ground, rising until they hovered around them in a protective orbit.

 

The night was uneventful. Glittering eyes peered out from the shadows of the treeline, but never quite focused on them and winked out moments later. An owl hooted, far away, and was answered by a mournful howl. Several orbs of light bobbed across their path and danced over the river for a while before floating off in the other direction to wherever it was they were going.

 

It wasn’t until dawn that Judal first felt the frighteningly familiar weight on his psyche. He stopped, as did Spartos just ahead of him, and the others followed suit.

 

Just moments before the air had been full of the sound of waking birds and running water, yet now even that seemed muffled. For several long minutes, they all just stood there. Then, Judal caught the first few notes of an eerie song and stopped breathing altogether. He knew the moment Spartos heard it too, because they shared a look that clearly said; _fuck_.

 

 _Oh._ Judal repeated mentally. _Fuck_.

 

The distant echo became a clear melody as the being drew nearer to where they stood, and with it came the same aching, humbling pressure from the day before. He and Spartos had braced for it, but the others all froze under its sudden weight on their entire self. It was not simply the presence of the being, Judal realized dimly, but also a rebellion of his own body as magic far too old and far too potent tried to ooze its way into him. Before, it had been insistent, but today the magic felt curious and amused, as if he were a puzzle it wanted to solve.

 

 _Not this shit again_. He thought, as nausea rolled over him in a gelatinous wave.

 

The being stepped out of the woods on the other side of the riverbank. No one looked at it. No one acknowledged it. They all stood perfectly still and tried not to see, think, or hear the creature crossing their paths.

 

In the air, the stones shivered, but continued their steady orbiting.

 

Though the sun had not yet risen fully into the horizon, it still felt as if they stood there for hours, unable to so much as think for fear of drawing the being’s attention. The being was unhurried, he paused at the river’s edge and leaned down to scoop a handful of water to his mouth, then stood again to watch the sun as it drifted higher into the sky. When he finally crossed the river, it was in one massive stride.

 

The pressure diminished for a moment, but only just.

 

Here, the being paused. He stood, for the first time silent, and swung his head around to stare straight at Judal with three warm, unblinking eyes. But he couldn’t see him, so he couldn’t possibly be staring at him, and Judal had never seen his eyes or his face or his smile or the long, long, long plait of sapphire hair trailing over his shoulder towards the ground. There had never been a being standing in front of him, there was no being in his thoughts.

 

There wasn’t, Judal convinced himself. _There wasn’t_.

 

As soon as the being left, Judal slumped, dimly grateful that Pisti was close enough to catch him on her small shoulder. Hakuryuu rushed to prop him up on the other side, but he shrugged them both off and allowed himself to collapse to his knees. This wave of nausea was the slowest to pass thus far. Judal was sure he was going to lose his last meal twice before it finally subsided, leaving him feeling even more drained than before.

 

Morgiana wordlessly offered him a canteen and Judal drank, relieved to taste clean water. Hakuryuu helped him shakily to his feet and allowed him to lean heavily against his side, an arm around his waist, as they slowly started moving again. No one addressed what had happened.

 

Conversation picked up again several miles later, vague and without much life to it. Judal was walking on his own again, and Hakuryuu’s hand had moved from his waist to grip fiercely at his hand instead. Their fingers were tangled in a white-knuckled grip that acknowledged that there was a lot going unsaid, if only for the moment. The others chose not to engage them, which was thoughtful in its own way, as it left them to walk in companionable silence.

 

For the first time, the mountain peak drew closer. Judal thought he was going to have some serious words for the faerie at the top, when they reached it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Aladdin, dressed in a light blue shift with bluebonnets tucked into his hair, was waiting for them at the mountaintop. He stood with hands on his hips, inviting smile on his cherubic mouth, even before Judal dropped the circle of stones so he could properly see them.

 

“Welcome, guests!” he laughed, sounding as if nothing pleased him more than the sight of them all bedraggled, but victorious. “How wonderful you could all make it.”

 

Aladdin turned his body and gestured wordlessly through an archway made of bowing trees with long, hanging vines of violet flowers. The invitation was subtle, but strong enough that passing through the threshold felt only mildly discomforting. Through the archway they found themselves standing in a wide grove of trees topped with pure white flowers, which glowed faintly with their own ethereal light. Here, the river thinned to a spring, which trailed around the circle of trees and back down on the other side, creating a circle of water about the faerie’s home.

 

There was no fixed shelter within the grove, just several pieces of simple furniture lying about in the approximation of a living space. Cushions of moss and down lay piled to one side, while a long, low table sat on the other. Large clay pots sat by the edge of the water, alongside thin glass needles, laying innocently on the grass. There was a fire pit with well-worn cookware settled beside it in an organized heap, and a line hung between two trees with several brightly colored cloths tossed over it, drying.

 

“I have to say, I was hardly expecting you to keep moving non-stop. I am not so bad a host to have allowed you to be attacked in your sleep!” Aladdin laughed, his tone chiding despite its merriment.

 

Hakuryuu seemed either too tired, or too proud to be concerned with the vague insult the faerie was implying. His expression remained impassive, eyes fixed just to the side of Aladdin’s gaze.

 

“We chose to be cautious.” he said.

 

“And now we’re here.” Alibaba added. “So will you hear us out--”

 

Aladdin held up a hand.

 

“Every last one of you looks dead on their feet. Relax, now that you are here I will speak with you, so take some time to dress your injuries and rest.”

 

He gestured around the grove, offering the empty spaces for them to make camp in. Judal found it hard to pretend like the idea of sleep wasn’t appealing, and he didn’t seem to be the only one. They waited for Hakuryuu’s decision, and after a moment’s pause he sighed and nodded his head.

 

They chose a spot near to the entrance of the grove and deposited themselves in a disorderly heap. Since they had traveled light they didn’t have much in the way of sleeping arrangements, but made due with rolled cloaks and quickly grown bedding of pliant grass and squishy clumps of moss. While camp was being set, Judal meandered a few feet away to begin picking rocks at random from the edge of the stream. They didn’t call to him the way the last two sets of stones had, but he didn’t think they needed quite that much protection this time.

 

He made the approximation of a circle with them, hefting a few larger rocks into place with a grunt of effort that drew the faerie’s attention.

 

“You know, in mixed company that sort of thing might be considered _rude_.” Aladdin sighed, exasperated.

 

Judal stared at him pointedly and dropped the final stone into place, closing the circle around their makeshift camp. Aladdin looked as though he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be amused, angry, or further exasperated by the changeling’s antics.

 

“Is he always like that?” he asked.

 

“He rarely obeys convention.” Hakuryuu said, unable to keep the fondness from his voice.

 

Alibaba wandered over to Hakuryuu as he approached the circle, crossing the barrier with him. He cocked his head wordlessly, conveying a desire for conference. Spartos joined them, looking somehow more weary without his armor on.

 

“I don’t think we’re necessarily in danger,” Alibaba murmured, just loud enough for them to hear. “But I think it would be better if someone kept watch all the same.”

 

“I agree.” said Spartos. “Who should take first watch?”

 

“I will. The sun’s still up, so I’ll have a hard time getting to sleep anyway. Morgiana can go after me, since she needs less sleep than the rest of us. If we’re still sleeping after her shift, Pisti can go, she rises with the sun.”

 

Hakuryuu nodded, silently grateful that he would be left to sleep undisturbed by this arrangement. Alibaba grinned and clapped him on the shoulder before stepping back out of the circle, nonchalantly depositing himself on a small boulder not far from them.

 

Judal had already claimed a spot for himself, and by extension Hakuryuu, and was dozing by the time his lover joined him. Hakuryuu stripped his belt and scabbard from his hip and laid it with the rest of his equipment before finally lying down beside the changeling. Exhaustion swamped over him immediately, reminding his body of every ache and pain it had suffered in the last few days. He laid on his side and tucked an arm around Judal, drawing him to his chest so he could feel the comforting brush of his breathing on his neck, and finally allowed himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured it had been a long time since we'd had any proper fight scenes, and I wanted to remedy that! For those curious, the ape-beasts were based loosely off the dungeon monster-human hybrids Morgiana fought in Balbadd, just without the humanoid element. 
> 
> And I'll be naming him in the next chapter so it's not a spoiler to confirm that, yes! The "being" was Ugo! He's an old, old, old fae of unknown origin, but he chills with Aladdin so he's cool. Just kind of scary before you get to know him. 
> 
> Are you guys missing the Ren family any? Would you like to see more side-chapters with them, or have those scenes incorporated into the main story? I'd honestly like to know, since I'm still adjusting the outline going forward.
> 
> And here's a question for you guys; if I were to make stickers or postcards or some kind of merch for Serendipity, would you guys be interested?


	39. Duet 1

Alibaba deposited himself on a small boulder not far from the circle wherein his companions settled themselves for a well-deserved rest. No sooner had the last one stilled and fallen silent than the faerie of the mountain appeared at his side.

 

“Wise of you to keep watch.” Aladdin said. “Perhaps a little hurtful, but wise anyway.”

 

He sank gracefully onto the grass beside Alibaba, leaning his weight back against one palm and holding a clay bottle in the other. He tilted his head back to take a swig from the bottle, appraising Alibaba from under half-closed lashes. When he caught the prince’s wary expression, he snorted.

 

“Relax, I mean no harm to any of you! And I take no insult at your cautiousness.”

 

“That’s not how it sounded.”

 

“Yes, well,” Aladdin waved vaguely with the bottle. “While it’s wise not to trust so easily, it remains hurtful to be distrusted.”

 

He drank again, relaxed so he had the appearance of one lounging on an opulent chaise rather than the grassy forest floor. When he adopted a posture so languid and open, Alibaba couldn’t help but trace his eyes along the plains of his lean figure. He roamed from the bob of his throat, across his flat torso, down toned thighs to the tips of his toes. Aladdin had loosened his shift at some point, so it hung lazily from shoulder to navel, becoming more a concept of modesty rather than the real thing.

 

Aladdin’s beauty was an understated kind, subtly hidden in the way he held himself and the movement of his skin over his bones. At first, Alibaba thought he could name others he found more lovely than the faerie before him, yet as he tried to conjure their names and faces, he found he could not. Inexplicably, he felt that if he gazed too long upon the faerie, he might be overtaken by urges that any fae learns to swallow long before pubescence.

 

Maddening and dangerous, the beauty of the faerie. But oh, so enticing.

 

Aladdin held the bottle out with a cocked brow.

 

“I think I’ll decline.” Alibaba said. “On account of that cautiousness.”

 

“Suit yourself.” the faerie shrugged, lifting the bottle to his mouth once more. “You don’t look like the type who can handle his spirits anyway.”

 

Alibaba had to work hard not to rise to the bait, however obvious it may have been. What citizen of Sidhe was capable of turning down the thinly veiled invitation of a drinking contest? Not even the Ancients could resist something like that.

 

“Maybe another time we’ll drink together, but not today.” he said, shaking his head.

 

“A reasonable proposition, I think I’ll accept. You owe me an evening of drinking, then.”

 

“I said _maybe_. I owe you nothing.”

 

“Not yet.”

 

The sudden weight of Aladdin’s gaze sent a shiver down Alibaba’s spine. Those eyes of his were old as the earth beneath them and teeming with stars, all glittering strangely beneath a translucent veil. His words, too, had held the same weird eeriness that spoke to an understanding of the universe on a scale Alibaba was unaware of. Alcohol had done nothing to dull Aladdin’s awareness, of that he was sure.

 

Alibaba tilted his head back, baring his face to the sun overhead and basking in the heat on his skin. He had thought they may never escape the endless canopy of green on their trek up the mountain. Shadows suited him ill, and he had yearned to feel the sunlight washing through him like the kindness of an embrace.

 

His fingers spun in an idle gesture, calling a flame to dance across his fingertips. One fight had hardly tamed the ever-burning inferno inside him, no more than playing with the ember did now.

 

“I have seen fae far older than you unable to find balance with fire.” Aladdin said conversationally. “Few born with that element as master seem able to avoiding being swallowed by it. You handle the flames well.”

 

Alibaba’s chest swelled with pride, and the flame dancing over his fingers flared in response. Aladdin smiled behind the rim of his clay bottle.

 

“We have an understanding, the fire and I.” Alibaba said. “So long as I treat it like the living, breathing creature that it is, it won’t try to eat me alive. So far, the arrangement’s worked for us.”

 

“What a mature perspective.”

 

The prince couldn’t help but crack a smile.

 

“Is that a compliment?”

 

“Take it how you like.” Aladdin replied, rolling his shoulders in the lazy approximation of a shrug.

 

They fell into a second shared silence bereft of the heavy awkwardness Alibaba had expected. Aladdin drank, sinking back slowly until he was laid flat on the grass with one arm tucked behind his head. The sun trudged placidly across the sky, accompanied by the faintest wisp of clouds, like smoke around its brilliance. Though no breeze broke the calm, a pair of swallows came chirping from the woodland, circling above the grove before darting down to alight on Aladdin’s lax body. He peeked one eye open, then shut it again, and smiled.

 

The mountaintop was peaceful, but not the kind of peaceful meant for fiery princes like Alibaba. In the moment, he was glad for the sense of ease permeating his being, but he knew it wouldn’t last. This encapsulated quietness had been designed to suit Aladdin, to cater to his specific desires. Soon enough the stillness would drive Alibaba mad, and probably anyone else foolish enough to remain here for long.

 

How many others had made it this far, he wondered? Or indeed, how many had Aladdin brought here, willingly draped against him, only to watch with that idle smile as his sanctuary drove them to a sloth-borne insanity? When he looked down at the faerie, Alibaba thought there had probably been a great deal of those fools, and he was lucky not to be one of them.

 

Just when Alibaba had begun to consider himself the only one awake within the mountaintop grove, Aladdin startled him by speaking.

 

“The more I think of it, the more I have to question;” he said without opening his eyes. “What _is_ it that you’re doing here?”

 

“You’re the one who said not to speak of our business until we had rested.”

 

“No, no, not the whole lot of you. _You_.”

 

Aladdin opened one eye, which seemed to already be fixed on Alibaba’s befuddled expression. The faerie’s brow knitted into a frown, which curved his mouth down at the corners in a terrible way that begged to be kissed.

 

“You are a prince of Seelie, are you not? I can feel the court on you, and you’re no mere fae. You possess a great deal of bravery, and as your fire has shown me, wisdom beyond your years.”

 

Alibaba snorted.

 

“Surely you are the type to command armies and lead great throngs into battle, you carry yourself like a warrior.” Aladdin went on, unfazed. “And yet, here you are, _bowing_ to the whims of an UnSeelie Prince.”

 

His inflection was scathing, enough so that it raked against the rest of his sentence as metal against stone. The implication was crude, based off of the eons old divide between their courts, and had it been any other pair, Alibaba was sure that such a comment would have garnered just the reaction Aladdin was seeking. In this case, he would have been better to simply carry on playing to the prince’s vanity.

 

“In the many seasons I have known Hakuryuu, he has never once asked me to bow to him.” Alibaba said with a smile. “I follow his lead because I know, were it my war we were fighting, he would follow me just the same.”

 

Both of Aladdin’s eyes flickered open, and though his posture didn’t change, an air of alertness came about him.

 

“...I see.” he said slowly. “Your bond goes beyond that of allies.”

 

“I’ve known Hakuryuu since long before I knew even my fire. He and I may not be equals in the eyes of Sidhe, but we are to each other.”

 

This was neither the first, nor likely the last time that a stranger had attempted to drive a wedge between the two princes to gain their own advantage. Since the beginning of their friendship, people of either court had attempted to pry them apart to no avail. They were both terribly stubborn, and incredibly set in the idea that once they were friends, they would be for the rest of their extensive lives. It would take far more than the demeaning words of a faerie break the bond they shared.

 

Aladdin looked as though he hadn’t been expecting to have his fun cut short quite that quickly. He didn’t pout, yet irritation formed an unmistakable crease between his brows. Fae weren’t known to give up on their mischief easily, however, so it was but a moment before Aladdin found another way to try and tease a reaction out of Alibaba.

 

“You say that,” he said. “But the Prince doesn’t seem to have eyes for anyone but that changeling.”

 

At the mention of Hakuryuu’s new lover, Alibaba glanced over at the place where the two of them had lain down to rest. They hadn’t moved but to tangle themselves together more comfortably, one of Judal’s legs tucked over Hakuryuu’s hip while the UnSeelie Prince had fitted his arm beneath his lover’s head. At a distance, their sleep looked peaceful, but Alibaba knew the tense line of Hakuryuu’s back well. If disturbed he could be on his feet, blade drawn, in a heartbeat.

 

“No, he really doesn’t.” Alibaba agreed.

 

“That doesn’t bother you?”

 

“Should it?”

 

The faerie gave him an exasperated look, which only served to make Alibaba laugh.

 

“What, you think because I’ve slept with him I’d feel jealous? Sun and stars, no. Hakuryuu and I may have entertained one another on occasion, but we’d be dreadful lovers.”

 

“And here I thought you were so very close.”

 

“Oh, we are, which is precisely how I know we’d kill each other in a fortnight if we even tried to be more than what we are.”

 

Alibaba shook his head, still chuckling to himself.

 

“No,” he said, looking back at his sleeping friend. “I feel no envy when I see them together. And besides, why would I be jealous of Hakuryuu? He means to lead the next Great War, and I certainly don’t envy that position.”

 

“On the subject of the changeling...” Aladdin hummed, as if he hadn’t been the one to drag Judal into the conversation in the first place. “Do you know what he _is_?”

 

“No, not a clue. None of us know, really, not even Judal. It will be a grand surprise when he finally sheds that mortal shell, I’m sure.”

 

The seemingly benign question gave Alibaba pause, even once he had answered it. Something about it drew his eyes down to Aladdin. For a moment, he swore the faerie had been staring straight at Judal, but when he blinked, his eyes were on him again.

 

“Why?” Alibaba asked, steadily.

 

Aladdin blinked his ancient eyes a second time.

 

“Merely curious.”

 

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about changelings, would you, Aladdin?”

 

“I may.” he said, allowing his eyes to fall shut again. “I may.”

 

Alibaba watched the ghost of a grin grip the edges of Aladdin’s mouth and pull them upwards, unable to contain the playful mirth behind his sly answers. He spoke no more, and when it became obvious that he didn’t mean to continue their conversation, Alibaba turned his gaze back up to the sky.

 

Some hours later, Morgiana woke to relieve him of his duty, and he crossed quite gratefully into the circle of stones to rest. When he glanced back, almost unaware of the gesture until his head had turned, he found the faerie sitting upright with his eyes locked onto him. Alibaba avoided his gaze, but felt the faerie’s eyes long past the veil of sleep, and into his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the last chapter I asked people if they would be interested in merch, and if so what kind, and to my absolute astonishment the most highly requested form of merch was a printed copy of the story. I was totally blown away by the amount of people who want a physical version of this story, and I still am! 
> 
> I've been seriously considering how I would go about making a printed copy of _Serendipity_ a thing, so here are some important things to note:
> 
> \+ Due to how long this story is, and the way it's set up, it would be printed arc by arc. That means that what would be printed currently would be **Chp. 1 - Chp. 23** , including all the chapters between the main story. So 29 chapters overall in the book.  
> \+ I'd need to find a publisher, since I've never done something like this before, and figure out the cost of everything. The way it would go would be that I would set up pre-orders for the printed copy, which people would order, and I would use that money to get the books printed and shipped out.   
> \+ That being said, editing and reformatting the story might take a little time. If this seriously moves forward, it will definitely become my first priority, so hopefully it would get done relatively quickly. I can't give an exact time-frame right now, obviously, but I will as soon as I'm sure if this is a thing people seriously want me to pursue.
> 
> I know a lot of my readers don't always comment, and usually I wouldn't ask you to, but since this is a big undertaking I'd really appreciate it if you would tell me either here or via one of my other social media accounts **whether or not you would be interested in a printed copy of Serendipity**!


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